


Through Haught's Eyes

by Earpalicious



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Relationship, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, Other, Strong Female Characters, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-12-22 22:31:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 60,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11976387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earpalicious/pseuds/Earpalicious
Summary: When Officer Nicole Haught took the job as Sheriff's Deputy in the small, quirky town of Purgatory, she suspected it would be life-changing - she had no idea just how much.This is the Wynonna Earp story from Nicole Haught's POV and it's going to be a slow burn - every canon scene from the show featuring Officer Dimples, plus a few new ones to fill in the gaps. Rated M for the darker and more violent canon moments, but nothing excessively graphic planned.Basically, this is what I'm going to do to stave off insanity while I want for season 3. Get comfy guys.





	1. A Pretty Girl at Shorty's

“I didn't know Shorty’s had wet T-shirt competitions!”

 _What the actual hell was that_? The words were out before Nicole had a chance to properly vet them and now she had to try and dig her way back out of this arguably inappropriate way to have started a conversation.

The truth was that all her usually on-point assessment of the right thing to say in social situations had gone on pause since the moment she arrived in the bar.

There had been reports of a disturbance at Shorty’s the night before, and Nicole had decided to drop by today before opening hours to see if there was any info she could get from Shorty himself. She'd been told already that if Shorty wasn't around, she'd likely end up talking to the girl who worked the bar most frequently, Waverly Earp.  

Earp. She'd heard the name a lot since she first arrived in town, but hadn't paid it a whole lot of thought until now. Having stopped in her tracks as she laid eyes on the girl that could only be Waverly Earp herself, the name had come crashing to the forefront of her attention. It was like the world had stopped and for a moment Nicole had forgotten her own body existed. She was just floating in the doorway, gazing over at the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Reality snapped back suddenly and she took a deep breath, composing herself.

The petite brunette was behind the bar and hadn't seen Nicole arrive, so she'd been considering options for ways to smoothly introduce herself. And then the bar taps had erupted and suddenly all the smooth was gone.

Waverly was clearly startled at the realisation that there was an audience to her technical issue with the tap.

 _Shit,_ thought Nicole. _Not a good start._

She hurriedly followed up with, “You OK?” hoping it went some way towards minimising the creep-factor of watching in the doorway, jaw gaping as Waverly was doused with chilled beer. That wasn't the sort of first impression she was supposed to make as a Sheriff's Deputy.

Despite the questionable opening line, Waverly’s face broke into a smile like a ray of sunshine. Nicole couldn't help but smile back as she approached the bar.

“Yeah,” Waverly said, grabbing a towel to mop at her now soaked tank top. “Yeah. I, uh... Just a bit jumpy. Had a... a crazy night.”  
  
_Crazy night huh?_ Nicole thought with a grin. “Sorry I wasn't here to see it.” she said, placing her stetson down on the bar.  
  
_Wait, crazy night. The disturbance. I'm here to ask about the disturbance. Focus Haught, you're working. She has no idea why you're here or who you are even. How about we start with an introduction?_

“I've been, uh... I've been meaning to introduce myself. I'm Nicole. Nicole Haught.” she offered up a hand which the brunette shook.

“Hi,” Waverly said, smiling with her entire face.

Nicole blinked and tried to remember what she'd been planning to say before she'd been distracted by Waverly’s dazzling smile and soft handshake.

“And you are Waverly Earp.”

_Smooth, Haught. Not creepy at all that you already know her name._

Mercifully, Waverly didn't seem bothered by this. “Yes,” she confirmed. Perhaps she was used to her reputation preceding her.

_Maybe I should give it some context._

“Quite a popular girl around here.” Nicole said matter-of-factly. There you go: a totally legit subject of common knowledge and not a creepy-Nicole thing. Good save.

Waverly smiled that smile again and Nicole's heart jumped a little. “Oh, you know, it's all in the smile and wave.” The ‘smile and wave’ that Waverly then demonstrated was so adorable that Nicole could have just melted on the spot right there and then.

“Yeah… ” she said vaguely. _Damnit get a grip Haught._ She had once again forgotten what she was there to ask, so she decided to fill the gap with: “Can I get a cappuccino to go?”  
  
Nicole marvelled as Waverly looked genuinely apologetic as she said “Oh, I'm really sorry. Um, we're not actually open yet so…”

“Oh!” Nicole looked around at the empty bar and remembered that she had deliberately arrived when the place was closed. _Smooth. “_ Right! My bad. It's just when I see something I like, I don't want to wait.”

Once again the words were out of her mouth before she'd fully considered them, but she was starting not to care. Talking to Waverly was hypnotic and Nicole felt a pull to succumb to the spell like she'd never experienced before. She decided to pull things back a little though, and added: “And your door was open so…”

“Right,” Waverly said somewhat distantly.

Their eyes were locked together and Nicole hardly dared to let herself wonder what might be going on in Waverly’s mind. Were they having a moment? It kinda felt like it. A smile broke out on both their faces and suddenly Waverly was laughing nervously and mopping at her own chest with the towel again. “God... Oh, God, I'm sopping wet.”

Nicole swallowed hard and tried to keep her breathing steady as her heart thudded heavily. She was absolutely _not_ looking at Waverly’s soaked front.

What was happening here? She never got like this around anyone.

“You know, I keep telling Shorty he needs to fix the darn taps,” Waverly was still smiling so earnestly that Nicole was entranced. She fought the urge to bite her lip at the endearing way the brunette said the word ‘darn’.

“Sorry, do you mind just, uh...?” Waverly did a charming little mime of covering her eyes and Nicole realised she was being asked for some privacy. Some privacy because she needed to do something to sort out the soggy tank top situation. Because she needed to _remove_ the tank top.

Nicole's heart thudded away in her chest as she turned away, hoping that Waverly hadn't noticed her eyes widen as she'd caught on. She heard the rustling of clothing behind her and then the subtle ripping of stitches.

Had it gotten warm in here?

“Oh! Oh, crap! Um... Uh, uh, officer, I'm stuck…”  
  
Nicole turned to see the brunette’s head and arms tangled up in her half-off top.

“Oh!” for just a fleeting moment Nicole's eyes slipped down to Waverly’s bare stomach. _Gulp_. “Yeah, let me help you.” she sped around the bar, trying like hell to look anywhere else as she helped lift the tangled top over Waverly’s head with a laugh. “I got you.” she said, settling to look back into Waverly’s eyes.

Waverly was chuckling, apparently unphased by the scenario up until this point. “Oh, God! Good job you're not some guy, right, or this would be really, really awkward..”

A cog seemed to have clicked into place in Waverly’s mind as she finished her sentence and became aware of the now small space between them. She was looking at Nicole and it was clearly dawning on her that perhaps the reasons she thought might make this encounter awkward with a guy, also applied here. For a brief moment they locked eyes again and Nicole felt her heart actually flutter a little.

Waverly was beautiful.

She felt the proximity to the girl in front of her like some sort of electric field, sending tingles down her spine and goosebumps across her skin. She almost didn't dare want to hope, but from the look in her eyes it felt for just a second like maybe Waverly might have felt something too. The moment seemed to last forever until suddenly it was over and Waverly was making conversation again.

“Uh... Um... I-I owe you one.”

The last remaining shred of cool left in Nicole immediately saw and seized the opportunity. The calm and confident version of herself she was usually able to maintain started to resume control.

 _Fortune_ _favours the bold…_  
  
“Alright, well, how about you buy me that cup of coffee?” she said, How about tonight?”

She held her breath.

“Oh, I can't,” Waverly replied so quickly and firmly that it was all Nicole could do to suppress the disappointed sigh that tried to break out.

But Waverly wasn't done.

“No. I mean, I'd love to, but... like, like to, uh... but I have plans. Yeah. I'm a planner. I like to know what I'm doing at least two or three days in advance.” Nicole found herself smiling despite the rejection; it was impossible not to listen to this girl’s awkward ramble and not be simply enchanted by her.

And then she got to the crux of it: “I'm... I'm in a relationship. With a boy. Man.”

There it was.

“A boy-man.” Nicole nodded knowingly.

Of _course_ there was a boy-man. Nicole felt foolish for having thought that would ever not be a _boy-man_. This was her cue to leave, before she could no longer hide the dejected feeling from her face. Nicole steeled herself and took a slow amble back around to the other side of the bar to retrieve her stetson. “Yep, I've been there. It's the worst.” She maintained her jovial tone though she certainly didn't feel it inside. Inside she felt…

Well OK, so she'd have to just _deal_ with the fact that this beautiful, charming and mesmerising woman was straight and unavailable, but there was no reason they couldn't be friends. She knew already that she wanted to see Waverly again, no matter what capacity it was in. And something… _Something_ about the way Waverly looked at her made her feel like maybe she wanted to see Nicole again too. She'd take what she could get.

“OK, well, some other time,” Nicole said, putting her card down on the bar as she grabbed her hat and made for the door.

They could totally be friends, right?

“I mean it,” she added, with what she hoped was a friendly smile as she looked back over her shoulder. She couldn't seem to stop herself throwing in a flirtatious smile as she placed her hat back on her head. Waverly watched her go, still clutching her soggy top with an expression that Nicole couldn't place.

As she turned to walk away she thought she saw a different kind of smile creep onto Waverly’s face out of the corner of her eye. Was she… Checking her out? Too late - she'd turned away fully and couldn't very well perform a less than suave double-take to look back and check for sure.

It was an effort to keep walking out the door.

She stepped out into the street and was greeted by a cool, sobering breeze. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to shake the feeling that she'd just met someone very important. She couldn't physically contain the dopey smile that she knew was plastered all over her face and she mostly didn't care. The day seemed brighter than it had before, and she could feel the spring in her step ready to carry her away down the street.

Then her eyes pinged back open and she gave herself a mental kick.

_Goddamn it Haught, you didn't ask a single question about the disturbance._

She prided herself on having never been one of those ‘useless lesbians’ before. Oh well. There was a first time for everything. It wouldn't be the last.


	2. The Black Badge Division

**** The spring in Nicole's step seemed like it was going to be a permanent fixture for the day. She already had a reputation at the station for being energetic and enthusiastic, but even by her usual standards she was a force of productivity with a friendly and cheerful grin in place at all times. 

By lunchtime she'd completed all her usual paperwork for the day, cleaned out the staff fridge, dealt with various incoming calls about neighbourly feuds, lost pets and noise complaints and all with an infectiously positive and upbeat disposition that nobody seemed able to shake. 

Even Sheriff Nedley seemed to be catching the cheerful fever, offering to make her a cup of coffee when he went to refill his own. She'd been so taken aback by it that she'd politely declined despite actually quite wanting one, which led to the awkward dance I'd waiting for him to disappear into his office before she could go make one herself. But even that couldn't get her down. She was was running in a high octane dose of ‘just met a pretty girl’ like she'd never experienced before, and it was such a high. 

Her mind kept see-sawing back and forth from an intense focus on her work to a total daydream where she replayed her encounter with Waverly Earp over and over again. She agonised over the things she knew she should have said differently and swooned over the moments that she was grateful  _ had _ happened. She did wish that she'd actually remembered to ask about the disturbance report, but the way she saw it that was just a good excuse for a return visit. 

She chewed the inside of her lip nervously at the thought. She really needed to get her head in order before she tried for round two with the breathtaking brunette. She knew there was no romantic opportunity there which was…  _ hard to take,  _ but she still really wanted to make a good impression. Waverly was special. That much was abundantly clear after just a minute talking to her, so she really didn't want to screw up her chance of getting to know her a little better. 

No, she needed to get her mind right before engaging in another conversation where she might go off-script again with loaded, flirtatious advances. She never normally needed to work so hard to be a functional participant of conversation, but Waverly had an effect on her that she wasn't used to. She took her breath away and made her feel all fuzzy and warm and distracted… 

‘Distracted’ was the word as her surge of activity had once again coasted to a halt in lieu of her current daydream about the town's favourite Earp. 

_ Snap out of it Nicole, you're working and Lonnie over there has started to notice your dopey smile.  _

Fortunately she was saved from Lonnie’s suspicious eyes by the arrival of a courier at the front desk. She hopped to her feet and skipped over to sign for the package.

“Have a great day!” She waved cheerfully at the courier who  _ did not _ wave back, and then turned the package over. 

It was addressed to Deputy Marshall Dolls, Black Badge Division.

Ah yes. The Black Badge Division. Nedley had been pretty closed lip about the mysterious Deputy Marshall Dolls and she’d known better than to keep pushing for answers. Could be that Nedley himself was on the disappointing side of a need-to-know basis. All anyone was sure of was that since Dolls arrived and commandeered an entire corner of the station there had been a tension in the air that you could cut with a knife. 

Well, that was before Officer Nicole Haught had caught the happy bug. Seemed to her that Black Badge and the Sheriff’s department were neighbours and the best cure for for community feuds was just good old fashioned neighbourlyness. She tucked the package under her arm and set off down the hall determined to make a new friend.

She knocked and pushed the door open. Deputy Marshall Dolls was in the room beyond, along with a woman that Nicole didn't recognise. Dolls turned his deadpan face towards Nicole as she leaned around the door, brandishing the parcel with a friendly smile. 

“Hey! Check it out: another piping hot delivery from…” she glanced down at the label on the box. “Wow, ‘CSIS’.” 

The pair were looking at her expectantly, Dolls wearing expression that said he was yet to be impressed. 

“Oh, I'm Nicole. Officer Haught,” she said, handing the parcel over as Dolls stepped forwards. 

She looked around at the somewhat spartan arrangement of boxes and files and wondered what exactly the Black Badge Division was for. Given the somewhat covert impression that they had made upon arrival, Nicole had assumed it would be a slicker operation than paper folders, coffee cups and what looked suspiciously like a box of doughnuts. 

Then again, they hadn't been there long. Perhaps they were still getting things set up and organised. They may not even have had everything they needed yet. 

“Y'all getting settled in alright? What is all this stuff?”

Dolls had taken the parcel and then taken an extra step forward until he was a little more up in Nicole's personal space than she generally allowed a man to be. He looked her in the eye with that same unreadable expression. 

“Nice to meet you, Officer Haught,” he said, his tone suggesting that it wasn't nice at all. Nicole was taken aback by his unwavering eye-contact as he went on to say: “If you ever enter my offices again without knocking, I'm gonna have you arrested for treason. OK?”

She stared back incredulously. 

_ Screw neighbourlyness.  _

“Nice to meet you too,” she retorted, throwing on as much sass as she could manage. 

She turned on her heel and left the room, closing the door behind her with a snap. She stood for a moment outside in the hall, simply processing what had just taken place. 

What an asshat.

Nicole ground her teeth angrily and clenched her fists, unable to displace the rage bubbling up inside. Nothing quite like the threat of treason to ruin a good mood. 


	3. The Sisters Earp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're onto the timeline of 1x03 now.

Nicole had made the mistake of asking about the Earps. 

She had struck up a conversation with her colleague Lonnie on the subject over coffee in the break room, under the pretense that she was interested in learning more about the town’s history. In reality, she was interested in learning more about Waverly Earp.

She’d tried - she really had - to stop endlessly thinking about the girl that had taken her breath away so completely, but it was no use. The crush had firmly taken hold and she was now buried up to her standard-issue khakis in that happy place where she didn’t  _ want _ to not think about her. It sent goosebumps across her skin just picturing Waverly’s smile. No, for now at least she was content to just give in to it and enjoy the warm fuzzies.

However, in her efforts to find out a little more about the stunning brunette Nicole had unwittingly opened a floodgate of gossip - and not for the Earp she had been thinking of. Waverly was, as she had already deduced, a descendant of good old Wyatt himself, but she wasn’t the only one. She had an older sister - Wynonna.

Nicole was treated to Lonnie’s 45-minute-long run down of the town pariah that was Wynonna Earp - from her accidental murder of her own father at twelve years old to the adolescence filled with foster homes and delinquency; from involvement with unsolved, bomb-related crimes to the shady circumstances under which she skipped town. Nicole clutched her coffee, wide-eyed and mentally bombarded by the non-stop list of stories in which Wynonna seemed to have crossed paths with the law in the wrong direction. Lonnie didn’t even stop at the gossip - he actually went and fetched Wynonna’s substantial file to reel off specific details of her repeated return visits to juvie and the various ways in which she broke her parole. 

Nicole looked down at the file’s attached photo. It almost seemed hard to believe that the pretty young girl looking back up at her was so… messed up. 

Nicole scrutinised the photo further, searching for any family resemblance to Waverly. The similarities were minimal, but there was something familiar about Wynonna’s face that Nicole couldn’t quite place.

“Then o’course there’s Waverly Earp,” Lonnie said, having finally run out of things to say about Wynonna.

Nicole immediately snapped upright to attention. 

“She’s not a bit like her sister,” Lonnie continued. “Sweet girl, god bless her. Something of a miracle all things considered. She works over at Shorty’s.”

“Yeah I think I bumped into her there the other day,” Nicole said casually, sipping her now stone cold coffee as a distraction from the blush that started at the tips of her ears when Waverly’s name cropped up. “She seems… nice.”

“Aw she’s nice for sure. Bit of a town sweetheart. Who knows, maybe she felt obligated to compensate for her train wreck of a sister.”

Nicole frowned. She didn’t even know Wynonna, but something about that last comment seemed to be a little unfair. From the sounds of it, neither sister had had it easy, but maybe there were factors going on that weren’t immediately obvious. Wynonna couldn’t be  _ that _ bad if she had such a sweet, friendly sister… could she? 

The Earp sisters continued to occupy Nicole’s thoughts for a while after her conversation with Lonnie, but she was distracted from her contemplation by news over the wire of an alarming murder in the big city. She and several of her fellow officers gathered around to listen as the report came in that the Deputy Mayor had been viciously murdered during a community ceremony to open Shirley Dixon’s time capsule. Dixon’s diary had been stolen, but rather more pressingly the Deputy Mayor had been filleted. 

That part had to be repeated.  _ Filleted _ . 

There was some suspicion of ritual behaviour, but all neighbouring towns were to be on the lookout for anyone matching the murderer’s descriptions. 

As the officers dispersed to return to their unexciting paperwork or to head off on their blissfully uneventful patrols, Nicole turned and headed straight for the Black Badge Division. 

She had received instructions - albeit with much distaste - that anything  _ weird _ that came over the wire would be of interest to Black Badge. Much as Nicole hated to hand over the first really interesting sounding case since she’d arrived to the emotionless embodiment of ‘classified’ that was Deputy Marshall Dolls, she had decided not to hold a grudge about his behaviour the other day. Black Badge wasn’t going anywhere, so it did nobody any favours to burn bridges. Especially not bridges that might give Nicole a chance to work on some  _ really _ interesting cases.

She reached Dolls’ office door and gave it a knock - this time she waited for his robotic command to ‘enter’ before she pushed open the door to deliver her message. 

“Hey. You asked to be alerted whenever things come over the wire that seem... unusual?” 

Dolls nodded. “Yeah, we're coming. Thanks.”

Nicole had already tuned him out, because who should be sitting on the edge of the paperwork-laden desk but Waverly Earp herself. Nicole clamped her teeth down on the inside of her lip to stop her mouth gaping open in surprise.

Dolls turned to Waverly with military posture. “Waverly, you’re dismissed.”

Dismissed? Was Waverly working for Black Badge? Nicole’s mind was flooded with a tidal wave of questions that all came to an abrupt halt at the arrival of a single, hopeful thought: maybe Waverly was going to be spending time here at the station.

Here, Waverly looked over and their eyes locked for a moment. Nicole smiled nervously. It seemed that Dolls had noticed the prolonged eye-contact, his own pupils darting back and forth between the pair as if he was cataloguing data. Waverly’s expression was hard to read again and before the redhead had a chance to figure it out, Dolls was steamrolling past her in the doorway, signalling her cue to exit. As she pulled the door closed behind her she caught a glance at the other woman in the room. 

Wait, was that  _ Wynonna _ ? Of course.  _ That _ was why the photograph had looked so familiar - she’d seen Wynonna at Black Badge before, when Dolls was doing his best impression of how to lose friends and alienate people. Why on earth would a covert government agency employ someone with a track record of illegal activity as monumental as Wynonna Earp’s?

Nicole made a mental note to come back to that question later. For now, she was still giddy at the thought that Waverly might be around regularly. Perhaps she’d get a chance to talk to her properly, without broken beer taps and tangled tank tops causing getting in the way. 

She and Dolls headed back towards Nedley’s office, where the Black Badge operative closed the door in her face behind him. She sighed, unsure of why she had been expecting anything different, and strolled irritably back to her desk. She was skimming through her recent emails as she saw Wynonna come out of the BBD office, coffee in one hand and half eaten doughnut in the other. Nicole watched her go, pondering over what inner workings could have made her behave the way she had done as a youth.

_ Killing your own father would probably do it,  _ she thought.  _ I mean, she doesn’t look like a killer, but I guess looks can be deceiving. _

She was brought out of her contemplation as Waverly too emerged from the BBD office a moment later. She was already looking over at Nicole as the redhead looked round. Nicole’s heart rate started to skyrocket. She gave Nicole a gentle little wave and it seemed like an involuntary smile had started to blossom on her face when her cellphone started to ring. Nicole took this opportunity to pretend to be super interested in the email on her screen, rather than just staring back at the petite brunette as she answered her phone.

“Hello? Oh… hey Champ.”

Champ. Nicole knew that name. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, like someone had let the air out of her metaphorical tyres.

Her mind instantly went back to one of the first local idiot hicks that she had pulled over for speeding when she first started working in Purgatory. He’d been doing more than double the speed limit in a shiny, tricked out, chrome-finished pickup truck that told Nicole everything she needed to know about the driver before she’d even gotten out of her squad car.

As she’d reached the driver side window, notepad and pen ready in hand, the young man behind the wheel leaned casually out of the window and flashed her what he probably thought was a winning smile.

“What seems to be the problem officer?” he drawled, like a walking sitcom cliche.

“Afternoon sir, do know how fast you were going?” Nicole asked, deliberately not making eye contact as she started noting down the truck’s plate.

“Sir? Pssh. I’ve not seen you around here before,” the driver had replied. Here, Nicole looked up, scowl at the ready. He shot her another cheesy smile. “You must be new in town. Name’s Champ Hardy.” He offered her a hand to shake. She looked at it for a moment before returning her attention to her notes.

“Champ Hardy. Got it. Any idea how fast you were going there, Champ?”

“Why, you like fast cars,  _ officer _ ?” Champ replied with a wink.

Nicole stared. She didn’t know if she wanted to slap him or just laugh. She’d had people try and talk their way out of tickets plenty of times before, but this guy had gone from zero to desperate pick-up lines in thirty seconds.

“You were doing over a hundred in a fifty zone. Let’s see your licence and registration.”

“Come on now officer….” 

“Haught.”

“Officer Haught, this highway’s a ghost town. There ain’t nobody around. I sure ain’t gonna tell anybody if you decided you just wanted to forget about this.” Champ leaned forwards a little. “Pretty little thing like you doesn’t need the hassle, right?”

“Are you kidding me?” Nicole said incredulously. 

Champ’s hopeful smile lingered just a moment longer before he sagged with a sigh and reached to his glove box for his licence. It looked like Nicole had received her quota of Champ charm and he was now all out.

She filled out the details of the ticket and handed it over. He took it between a finger and thumb and tossed it onto the passenger’s seat, refusing now to make eye contact. Nicole turned and started back towards her car.

“Good to meet you,  _ Champ _ ,” she called over her shoulder.

“Yeah, a real freakin’ pleasure,” she heard him grumble as she walked away.

She had gotten back into her car and hoped she’d never have to deal with that pretty-boy jackass again.

And now here was Waverly answering the phone to him, Nicole left helplessly within earshot.

“Hey Champ. Yeah, I miss you too. No I can’t bring you booze, I’m working later. Yeah I guess I could come over after but… It’s just gonna be a late finish and I’m already kinda tired. I mean, you could always come over-- well, you’re gonna have to come to the homestead  _ some time _ . Well… yeah of course Wynonna’s gonna be there, she’s my sister.” 

Nicole hadn’t meant to, but her eyes had wandered back over to Waverly as the conversation continued. She glanced back at Nicole with an almost embarrassed expression as she disappeared out the front door. Nicole closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. 

Sure she already knew there was a boy-man, but Champ Hardy? Champ  _ freakin’  _ Hardy. Why, of all the pretty-faced monkeys speeding around Purgatory in a shiny toy car did it have to be Champ Hardy?  _ Surely _ Waverly could do better. Nicole wanted better for her.

She found herself wistfully dreaming of having a close enough relationship with Waverly that she could let her know how much she deserved better. She felt such a strong sense of wanting to protect Waverly, not just from harm but also from local dumbasses that try and sleaze their way out of tickets. She took a deep breath. 

_ Aw geez, Haught _ , she thought to herself.  _ You got it bad. _

She didn’t get much longer to dwell on this before the phone rang, new emails came in and her job beckoned her full attention once again. She decided to try and forget about Champ and - if possible - Waverly for the rest of the day at least. Finding an excuse to speak to the youngest Earp again would be tomorrow’s mission, and something to keep her going through another uneventful day in Purgatory.


	4. Hostages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow this chapter got away from me a bit! Hope you enjoy this extra long update.
> 
> I got really into a rhythm with this chapter so it covers the rest of the events in 1x03.

Nicole was ready to clock off for the day. Just another ten minutes until her shift was over and she’ grab her keys and her stetson, bid her often-less-than-social colleagues a goodbye wave and make good on her intention to follow up on the disturbance reported at Shorty’s the other day. The disturbance that she had failed so utterly to follow up on with her first attempt. 

Arguably, checking out a call like that so many days after the fact was a like shutting the barn door after the horse had already bolted, but she reasoned to herself that she’d be going there off-duty so she wouldn’t be wasting official police hours on it. And anyway, she took due diligence very seriously. She was nothing if not determined to be a good cop, which was of course the main reason for wanting to go back.  _ Obviously.  _ And since she was off-duty, there’d be no harm in grabbing a drink while she was there and…  _ getting to know _ whoever may happen to be around.

She’d managed quite successfully to just focus on her work for the majority of the day. It had comprised mostly of finishing reports and filing paperwork; processing speeding fines, following up on information requests and reading the questionable appeals that locals had made against issued parking tickets. Nicole had to admire the creative optimism of any small-town person that tried to claim that their car must have been stolen and then parked illegally by the mob due to insufficient trunk space for body transportation. She had to admit, she’d not heard that one before.

Ultimately though it hadn’t taken long before her mind had wandered back into to the territory of a certain Earp. 

_ I wonder what Waverly’s favourite colour is. _

The thought had appeared, unbidden, in her head while she was mid-way through pouring a fresh cup of the not-fresh coffee from the breakroom. It caught her by surprise, having been in the midst of planning the conversation she’d have to have with the victim of the mob car-theft-and-park case. Dumbfounded as she was by the sudden mental segue, she ended up pouring some of the coffee onto her hand. The red scald on her knuckle served as a painful reminder that she was apparently now incapable of making it through more than a few hours without thinking of the girl from Shorty’s. 

_ You are hopeless _ , she thought to herself. Aside from the excruciatingly sad stereotype of crushing on a straight girl like she was fourteen, Nicole was becoming acutely aware of how frequently her concentration at work was failing. What the hell was the matter with her? Ok sure, Waverly was very,  _ very _ pretty and Nicole was probably not the first person that had turned to jelly when they met her, but still. Nicole was a grown-ass woman. She’d been attracted to people before and hadn’t lost the ability to pour a cup of coffee or string a sentence together. 

Her thoughts strayed to other encounters with beautiful women. Nicole certainly didn’t think of herself as some great catch, but she felt reasonably confident talking to someone with good looks. ‘Nothing ventured’, and all that - and her boldness had worked well for her in the past. Hell, if anything she’d been a little too cool and confident when faced with a pretty woman. It was this after all that had found her waking up in a Vegas hotel room with a brand new ring on her finger that sobered her up so rapidly it could go down in the history books as the official ‘cure for drunk’. And despite this, Nicole had never found herself pondering what Shae’s favourite colour was. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever even asked.

She ran her hand under the cold tap, her knuckles gently throbbing as she delved deeper into her own thoughts.

Perhaps it was because Nicole still didn’t really know anyone in town very well - other than Mr Kim from the take-out place on 3rd - and her subconscious was crying out for a real friend. She spent more hours working than not, and between the constantly anti-social shifts and her sometimes prickly colleagues there was never really a chance for her to meet new people, much less meet someone she liked.

She liked it in Purgatory, for sure. It had a small-town charm that reminded her of time spent with her grandparents out West, where everyone on the street knew everyone else by name and tipped a hat to them in a friendly way when they walked by. Given the rocky nature of her childhood living situation and the anonymity that goes with living in the big city, Nicole was craving a little bit of that warm, safe familiarity for herself. But here in Purgatory, she was still an outsider. It would take a good long while before she would stop being the new girl in town and some days she wondered if she’d ever be seen as ‘one of them’ instead of the big city cop. 

It was like arriving late to a party, where everyone has already formed the groups that they’re going to hang out in for the night and she’d missed the starting drinks. The game of figuring out where she fit in, playing catch up with the stuff that everyone else had already known for years… it was a daunting prospect. And it didn’t help that there was just the very faintest wall between her and the other deputies too. 

Nedley had had applications from folks all over town for the new position of Sheriff’s Deputy, but he’d specifically gone looking further afield. She didn’t know why he’d ultimately picked her, or how many other people were in the running, but it was clear he’d made his choice for some specific reason and he seemed to have kept a particularly close watch on her since she arrived. Nicole had been determined to prove that he’d made the right decision and put everything she had into the job. She started early, stayed late, was always first to respond to a dispatch call, did her patrol rounds faster than anyone else and submitted paperwork like a machine. As proud as she was of herself for that, it earned her more than a few sideways glances from her colleagues. She knew she wasn’t going to be invited out for drinks any time soon. 

And to be honest, it was no great loss as far as she was concerned. Sure, she liked the people she worked with, but they didn’t have loads in common. Conversations outside of the subject of work were a struggle. Anything regarding standard Purgatory-resident knowledge was something Nicole couldn’t really participate in, and she could reliably create silence on demand when she mentioned about her time travelling, or hiking, or living in the city. 

She had absolutely no fact on which to base it, but she had a feeling that a conversation with Waverly would be different. Waverly hadn’t given her ‘that look’ when they’d first met - the look that said ‘you’re not from around here’. She was one of the few people in town that hadn’t. It felt like Waverly herself was different from the rest of the people in town, like she was part of the small-town machine, but she was a self-aware entity above it all that just chose to participate. Like she thought bigger than the world right in front of her and could really see things. Like she could really see  _ Nicole _ .

By the time Nicole had returned to her desk, her mug stained with coffee dribbles and her hand pink from the cold water, she had come to a decision. She absolutely wanted to get to know Waverly better. 

Yes there was the crush, but she’d get past that soon enough so they could just be friends. Probably. Hopefully. 

And she could grit her teeth and put up with - she took a moment to take a breath and calm her flared nostrils - Champ. Who knows, maybe with Nicole’s influence Waverly might see what a total jackass he actually was.

The key takeaway was that Nicole wanted to be friends with Waverly. That wasn’t something she could just decide for the both of them though, it was something that would either happen or it wouldn’t. She’d never dream of pushing Waverly into a friendship, but if she didn’t reach out and make a first step then there was every chance that their paths would just never cross enough to get it started. 

So she had resolved to use the casual, off-duty follow up of the disturbance at Shorty’s as the catalyst, however thinly veiled an excuse that may be. And because she couldn’t bear the thought of waiting another moment more than she had to, she would be heading there as soon as her shift ended in a few moments time.

She watched the minutes tick by, her knee bobbing anxiously up and down. She surreptitiously checked her reflection in the screen of her cellphone and contained a few stray strands of hair. Because she needed to look professional while she was still wearing her uniform. Obviously.

The final five minutes of her shift crawled by at a glacial pace, as only the final five minutes of a work shift can. Her hand was poised over her stetson, ready to grab and go, when she heard the dispatch radio burst to life with the words ‘shots fired’ and ‘hostages’.

For a second she forgot all about her prior plans for the evening and rose instinctively to her feet, switching to fully alert cop-mode. Nedley emerged from his office, grabbing the radio to confirm the details with dispatch. She listened intently to the details.

Locals had reported shots fired at the surplus store in town. Unknown persons had barricaded the door, claiming they had hostages. No word yet on how many hostages or hostage-takers. In a blink, Nedley was turning to Nicole and marching back to his office for his jacket, hat and keys.

“Haught,” you’re with me.

Nicole nodded, threw on her hat and jacket and followed him wordlessly out the door as he barked a few other instructions to her colleagues. 

The scald on her knuckle burned as she jumped into her cruiser and grabbed the wheel, like it was trying to remind her that she had a prior engagement. She pushed the thought out of her head. She wasn’t Nicole right now, she was Officer Haught, Sheriff’s Deputy and she needed to focus. Waverly Earp would have to wait.

 

* * *

 

 

When Nicole had pulled up to the scene in her cruiser she spared a moment to roll her eyes when she saw that Dolls and Wynonna were already there. She scanned the scene to make sure there were no civilians about and thankfully the small-towniness of Purgatory seemed to be on their side as spectators were few and stood cautiously well back.

As she stepped out of the car, Nedley was already talking Dolls. By the time she was halfway over to them, Nedley had started back towards her looking like he could spit.

“What’s happening sir?” She asked.

“It seems that our good friends Black Badge have the situation… under control,” Nedley grumbled, taking a deep breath. “I guess we’ll be told when we’re needed.” He said that last part with an almost childish tone that Nicole would have found funny if she wasn’t equally enraged at Black Badge barging their way into a situation that as far as she could see, was out of their jurisdiction. 

Why was Nedley just letting them take over again? 

She huffed a frustrated sigh through gritted teeth. She knew Nedley was probably on her side, but she hadn’t been there nearly long enough to voice her thoughts out loud. Out of options, the pair turned to watch as Dolls and Wynonna had a brief, hushed exchange and the Earp started walking towards the storefront with her hands up. She knocked on the door and glanced back around at them, looking wary as she waited for a response, gripping a cellphone in her right hand.

“What the hell is she doing?” Nicole found herself saying out loud.

“Ah, Christ knows,” Nedley muttered. He made a beeline for the shotgun in his cruiser and Nicole un-holstered her side arm, raising it up to mirror Dolls who now had his gun trained on the bearded hostage-taker now leaning out of the building. 

Nicole was rapidly assessing everything she saw in front of her, her academy training kicking in. The perp was average height with chest-length, greasy brown hair and a beard to match. He wore a bandana and brown leather jacket and looked jumpy and agitated - this wasn’t a calm and collected guy, which made this situation a whole lot more volatile. Nicole watched as Wynonna and the perp exchanged a few words before the deputy stepped inside. Dolls lowered his gun immediately and fished a cellphone out of his pocket. 

Nicole was incredulous. She’d never been on-scene during a hostage situation before, but she knew from her training that this was not how it was supposed to go. Ordinarily she’d have blamed it on the small-town tendency to skip standard operating procedure due to low-calibre training or even general laziness, but she knew someone like Dolls would know better. If he wasn’t playing this by the book then it was a deliberate choice not to and if that was the case, it meant he knew something that they didn’t.

Dolls started speaking into his phone, addressing whoever was holding the hostages inside the building.

“Tell me what you want.”

_ Pause.  _

Dolls continued, lowering his volume a little but Nicole could still just about hear him. “The Black Badge Division has facilities outside the Ghost River Triangle, and if you harm one hair on my deputy's head, I guarantee you a fate much worse than death.”

Nicole's eyes narrowed as Dolls hung up the phone and began pacing lightly, never taking his eyes off the storefront. She glanced to Nedley, who seemed to just be watching the whole thing play out without any intention to intervene. If that was the case then it meant that he also knew something that  _ Nicole _ didn’t. If he hadn’t shared it with her already then he wasn’t going to. 

Nicole huffed in frustration, her eyes boring holes in the back of Dolls’ head as they all just stood there waiting for his word to take action. This was not what she was used to. Why wasn’t Dolls doing anything? Why wasn’t Nedley  _ making _ Dolls do something? There were hostages in there and nobody had even called any goddamn backup. It was just three of them stood in the street, waiting for… what? For Wynonna Earp to save the day?

After a few minutes the door opened again and the three tightened their grip on their weapons. It wasn’t needed - three people emerged, fear written across their faces and their hands cable tied together. Nicole couldn’t believe it. Had Wynonna actually convinced them to release the hostages? 

Dolls stepped forward a little and ushered the three hostages towards the back of Nedley’s car. Nicole was ready on her toes, to help shield them as they made their way past, eyes still fixed on the storefront for any sign of the perps.

“Are any of you hurt?” Nedley asked the three once they were safely shielded behind the body of the car.

“No, but there’s people still in there,” the woman said as Nedley cut their hands free. “Shorty, some guy and… Wynonna Earp.”

Nicole gasped a little as she heard Shorty’s name. 

_ Oh my god, Shorty? _ Shorty had been one of the few aforementioned people in town not to treat her like some suspicious invader when she had first arrived. Nedley had taken Nicole to the bar for happy hour to introduce her to a few of the prominent locals, including Shorty. He’d welcomed her with such a genuine smile and handshake that she’d been somewhat taken aback. Then he poured her an on-the-house shot of what was probably the roughest bourbon she’d ever tasted and chuckled at her face when she’d knocked it back.

He was a decent, friendly man and now Nicole could picture him fearing for his life, restrained at gunpoint. She ground her teeth together and decided that this standing by doing nothing thing wasn’t working for her any longer. She strode over to Dolls.

“What's the plan, Deputy Marshal?” She didn’t so much ask as demand, with conviction so it was clear she expected a decent answer. To her pleasant surprise, Dolls’ response was to the point and not laced with his usual condescension. He turned to her as he spoke and for the first time she had some glimmer of hope that he saw her as an ally.

“We surround the store. You get a clear shot, let me know.”

She nodded, “Alright.”

“We hear shots, we go in,” Dolls continued. He reached into his pocket again for his phone, which he then handed over, his tone softening almost imperceptibly. “Call Waverly. Tell her that her sister's in a situation.”

Again, Nicole nodded, her heart suddenly beating a little harder. She was too preoccupied with being treated with actual respect to assess the reason why. It was then she noticed the familiar pickup truck parked outside the store. She felt a sinking feeling very low down in her stomach. 

_ ‘Shorty,  _ **_some guy_ ** _ and Wynonna Earp’. Great. _

“Isn't that Champ's truck?”

Dolls turned to follow her eyeline where, quite accurately, Champ Hardy’s truck in all its chrome-detailed glory glinted in the sunlight.

“Waverly's boyfriend?” He said, by way of confirmation.

“Unfortunately…” 

Dolls’ head whipped around and he gave her that same calculating, analytical stare as he had this morning and she realised she’d said that out loud.

Determined not to make eye-contact with him lest he ask her what she meant, Nicole turned rapidly on her heel and marched over to her cruiser looking for Waverly’s number amongst Dolls’ contacts.

She found it but, despite the urgency, she hesitated as her thumb hovered over the ‘call’ icon.

_ Oh my god I’ve got to speak to Waverly Earp. What the hell am I gonna say? _

Her heart was thudding away in her chest now in a way that it hadn’t done so far through this entire hostage situation. Which was ridiculous. There were hostages, and guns, and no back up, and no clue what was going on and still calling Waverly Earp was the thing that had her pulse racing.

Who was she calling as? A cop? A friend? The former felt much less personal than she wanted to, but the latter…. She certainly wasn’t a friend. She’d barely spoken to her. 

_ Get over yourself Haught, this isn’t about you.  _ She scolded herself for forgetting the bigger picture, and just hit the button, putting the phone to her ear. 

The phone rang a few times and then Nicole heard the familiar music that was Waverly’s voice. 

“Hi this is Waverly, leave a message.”

The beep came too quickly and Nicole wasn’t ready to speak, leaving an awkward,  _ awkward _ pause. In the absence of any apparent brain function, her training kicked in.

“Miss Earp, this is Officer Nicole Haught from the Sheriff’s department. I’m afraid there’s a situation at the surplus store involving your sister and your boyfriend. I’m on scene with Sheriff Nedley and Deputy Marshall Dolls where some folks have been taken hostage and…”

She faltered a little, hearing how cold and impersonal she sounded. 

“Listen we think Champ and Shorty are in there and your sister has gone in to negotiate I think. We don’t know what the kidnappers want yet, but I promise you we’re doing everything we can to get them out safely. Wynonna… she’s already saved three people. I’ll keep this phone on me so you can call and I’ll let you know what’s happening. Please try not to worry. I’ll get them back to you.”

She hung up.

‘ _ I’ll get them back to you. _ ’ Her face scrunched up as she replayed her own words back.

Why did she say that? At this point there was no way to guarantee that anyone else was going to walk out of there alive and even if there was… why would it be up to  _ her _ to get them safely back to Waverly? She sighed. There would be time to cringe over the message later. For now, she had a job to do - not just out of duty, but for Waverly.

She pocketed the phone and went to herd the small crowd that was now forming up the street back a little.

She then went back over to Nedley’s car, where the three hostages waited nervously as Nedley radioed the station to send more cars.

_ Finally _ , Nicole thought. 

She turned to the hostages. “Did you see how many of them were holding you?”

“Three,” replied the man who Nicole vaguely recognised as the surplus store owner. “The tall guy seemed to be their leader. One of them… he was crazy. Had a knife…”

Nicole was scribbling these notes down in her notepad as Nedley strode back over to Dolls. She kept an eye on the storefront, but was keen to do  _ something _ useful rather than just stand around waiting.

Fortunately, the wait seemed to finally be over. 

The door of the storefront opened and Wynonna was first out. Nicole grabbed her gun from its holster, poised for action.

“Get behind the vehicle,” she said urgently to the hostages, guiding them to duck down behind Nedley’s car. Dolls and Nedley both had their weapons aimed and ready to fire.

She watched as the kidnappers crept out of the building slowly using Wynonna and Shorty as human shields, at gunpoint. Champ was walking… well,  _ cowering  _ freely with his hands up over his face and the third perp was nowhere to be seen. 

“OK, I can offer safe passage in return for the hostages,” Dolls called out

“Here's our safe passage! Anyone with a badge follows us, they all die!” That was the tall one behind Wynonna; the leader.

Dolls lowered his gun. “Deputy, did they find what they were looking for?” 

To her credit, Wynonna didn’t look scared. Champ looked like he was going to piss himself and Shorty looked understandably concerned, but if you were to judge the situation by Wynonna’s expression you’d think it was all just a minor annoyance. “Yeah. Loveless heart. But don't sweat it, I'm gonna kill these sons of bitches with my bare hands.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Nicole couldn’t help but smirk at that, impressed by her bravado. 

The perps forced Wynonna and the others into the piece-of-shit van parked out front.

Nedley was clearly getting anxious. “Can I at least shoot out the goddamned tires?”

“Yeah, if you want them to die now, go ahead”. Nicole huffed an exasperated sigh. Good to know that Dolls was still an asshole.

The van’s engine roared into life. Nicole’s eyes widened. 

They were going to get away. She looked frantically over at Dolls, who didn’t seem to be planning any kind of action and Nedley who for whatever reason was  _ still _ following Dolls’ lead. She stormed over to them.

“We're just letting them go?”

“No,” was Dolls’ stern reply.

They watched the van roll past them and Nicole thought it looked very much like they  _ were _ , in fact, just letting them go. She tried to keep her breaths calm and even. The van sped away around the block and out of sight. And she did nothing.

‘I’ll get them back to you’ she had said. She felt a sickening lurch in her stomach at the thought of having to tell Waverly if anything happened to her sister or her boyfriend. Or her boss for that matter. 

She was about to ask Dolls what the next move was, but he beat her to it.

“You two clear the scene.”

She turned and looked at him incredulously. Was he serious? He was still watching the empty street down which the van had sped and no longer seemed to be at all concerned with the Sheriff or his Deputy stood nearby. Nicole held her stern gaze as long as she could, waiting for him to look at her so she could give him the stink eye. He didn’t budge and eventually her frustration overtook. She turned and stalked away, re holstering her gun and clenching her fists.

_ Deep breaths Haught _ ,  _ you’re a cop and you’ve been given an order. Be professional. _

Nedley was heading towards the surplus store front, shotgun in hand, and Dolls was already in his government issue spook-mobile, speeding away down the street presumably after the van.

“Haught, keep those people back,” Nedley called over to her as he cautiously kicked the door open and disappeared inside the store.

Nicole went to conduct crowd control on the dozen or so people that had started to creep closer to the scene. 

“Ok folks I’m gonna need you all to take a good twenty steps back-” her instructions were cut short by the unmistakable sound of Nedley’s gun firing from within the store.

Nicole whirled around on the spot, gun trained on the store front as the crowd behind her scattered amidst screams. The door burst open and the third perp emerged, his shirt bloodied and torn.

“Freeze!” The perp didn’t even slightly acknowledge Nicole’s command, instead he turned and bolted down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

Nicole fired. She knew she was a good shot and it sure looked like she’d hit him pretty solidly in the shoulder, but he barely stumbled. She raced after him, Nedley emerging from the building apparently unharmed behind her.

The perp ducked down an alleyway and as Nicole reached it there was no sign of him. She stared, gun still aimed ahead, eyes frantically scanning to see where he could have gone. The alley was brick-lined, with no other entrances for a few hundred yards. There was no way he could have run fast enough to have reached them and there was nowhere to hide. Where the hell had he gone?

Nedley chugged to a breathy stop behind her, running clearly not his forte. She turned to him, lost for words, her mouth gaping open in dismay at her failure to apprehend the runner.

“Sir I… He just…”

“It’s ok Haught. Let’s just clear the street,” Nedley clapped her on the shoulder with something a little too much like pity for Nicole’s liking. “Stevens will be here in a minute, he’ll help you take statements. I’ll check the store again.”

Nicole couldn’t tear her eyes away from the alley, as if the perp was going to suddenly appear. She huffed angrily, grit her teeth and slid her gun back into its holster. 

For the next hour she tried to be vigilant with her police work to distract her until she heard any word about Wynonna and the others. She briefed Deputy Stevens on the situation when he arrived, she took statements from the hostages, they swept the store and took notes and photos to match with the statements. They told the spectators outside again and again that they couldn’t release any information at this time. 

Nicole kept checking Dolls’ phone in her pocket. She wasn’t sure whether it was for the best or worse that Waverly still hadn’t called back. 

It seemed like an eon before Nedley walked over with a grave expression and told her that Dolls had contained the situation with one casualty. Nicole’s heart fired up in a storm of mixed relief, guilt and horror as he told her that Shorty was dead.

 

* * *

 

 

Whether or not Waverly ever did call back, she didn’t know as she’d handed Dolls his phone back when they’d returned to the station that evening. He hadn’t said much, just taken the phone back with a nod of thanks - thanks for more than just keeping his phone safe. Maybe she was making some minute headway with the Deputy Marshall. 

It was clear though that this wasn’t the time to talk about what had happened. Nicole was already expecting not to be told the full story. No perps had been brought back to the jail cell  _ or _ the morgue. 

Just Shorty.

Nicole had seen them wheeling the body bag into the station as she’d been heading home. She’d then jumped into her cruiser and driven home where she’d punched the back of her sofa repeatedly until her knuckles started to bruise. A few tears escaped and she couldn’t tell if they were for Shorty or for herself. She had a sleepless night wondering what would have happened if they’d done things differently. She replayed her hasty promise to Waverly that she’d bring them home and felt guilty for having made a promise about something so far out of her control.

 

* * *

 

Everyone who loved Shorty had gathered at the bar the next day to share their grief and raise a glass. Nicole almost felt like she was intruding by being there, but she knew she had to come. 

She saw Waverly learning on the bar, her usually radiant smile absent as she gazed sadly at nothing in particular. She looked as though the whole world rested across her shoulders. Nicole felt her chest tighten and she made her way over to her, heart in her throat. She was terrified that Waverly might not want to talk to her or might be mad at her for the phone call - and she also knew it was selfish to think for even a second that Waverly would care about her at all, given what had just happened.

“Waverly,” Nicole’s heart raced as the brunette looked up at her, eyes bloodshot and glistening, vulnerable. “I’m so sorry.”

“I just can’t believe he’s gone.” Waverly’s voice broke on the last word and her face crinkled as she tried to contain the tears that were trying to force their way out.

Nicole felt helpless. She felt desperate to offer some,  _ any _ comfort but knew full well all the usual platitudes wouldn’t cut it. Unable to think of anything to say, she reached out and rested her hands on Waverly’s hoping that the contact would express the words she couldn’t seem to find. 

Her breath caught in her chest as her fingers ran over Waverly’s silky soft skin. She blinked the thought away. This wasn’t the time or the place and this wasn’t about her. It was about Waverly.

Waverly’s fingers tightened around Nicole’s and for a moment she felt a pull, like magnetism, and it was all she could do to stop herself reaching across the bar to wrap her arms around the young Earp. She chewed her lip and just stared at Waverly’s hands as they grasped her own. She hoped she wasn’t imagining it, but it felt like maybe Waverly  _ was _ actually taking comfort in the contact.

And then, with all the grace and timing of an ass-backwards bull, Champ Hardy appeared and wrapped his arms possessively around the brunnette, plastering the side of her face with rough kisses. “Oh, it’s okay.” he cooed.

Nicole pulled her hands away like she’d been burned. 

“Oh, uk ok.” A minor flash of annoyance flickered across Waverly’s face, but then it was gone again and she absent mindedly grabbed Champ’s arm, gazing off vacantly for a moment like she was tuning him out.

_ Come on jackass, read the room.  _ Nicole thought bitterly. She barely knew Waverly and even  _ she _ could tell that this was not the kind of comfort she needed right now. Nicole stood there awkwardly for a moment, Champ having not really acknowledged her presence. She tried to swallow the painful, sick feeling of seeing this buffoon all over Waverly and her eyes darted around uncomfortably, trying to find somewhere else to look. She tried to remember that Champ had been a hostage less than twenty-four hours ago, held at gunpoint and fearing for his life. On this basis, she decided to try and cut him some slack.  _ Try _ .

_ Well, I guess three’s a crowd _ , she thought, and made to back away but Waverly’s hand suddenly lunged out towards her, falling short as she was still weighed down by Champ draped around her shoulders. 

“Hey.”

Nicole found herself simply staring at the motion, her mouth gaping a little. Waverly had reached out for her, like she wanted to re-establish the contact. It was more information than Nicole could manage at that moment and she didn’t feel brave enough to take her hand back with Champ still there. She looked back up into Waverly’s eyes. It didn’t feel as close as holding hands but for the briefest moment it felt to Nicole like they were the only two left in the room.

“I got your voicemail. About Wynonna. Thanks.”

Nicole didn’t even notice that she was holding her breath. She didn’t even care that Champ echoed Waverly’s thank-you in a sickly sweet whisper that ordinarily would have made her roll her eyes. 

“That was really sweet,” Waverly nodded, shooting her a faint but sincere, teary smile.

Nicole exhaled and returned the smile a little, her heart warming at the news that the message had been seen as a gesture of comfort and not just an official police call. “Sure…” her eyes then darted to Champ, who to all the world looked like he really was friendly and grateful. But to Nicole, with his arms still set firmly around Waverly like she was his property, his expression said: ‘ _ Thanks. I’ll take it from here. _ ’

“Of course.” Nicole’s smile faded a little and she turned and walked away with a final nod, her head a mess with thoughts and her heart beating so erratically she no longer knew how to feel.

She was somewhere in between rage and relief, sadness and frustration. Part of her wanted to stay, to pay her respects with the others and maybe have a chance to speak to Waverly again,  _ alone _ . Part of her wanted to leave and run as far away as she could. She spotted Dolls stood across from the bar and decided to distract herself with conversation.

“Hey, uh, any update on that time capsule murder?” she asked.

“Nedley knows I won't tell him, huh?” Dolls turned to her with the closest thing resembling a smile she’d ever seen on his face that still wasn’t a smile. Nicole couldn’t help but smirk. “It's unresolved. We're handing the case back over to metro.”

Nicole was again surprised that Dolls had bothered to answer her. Maybe it was because he thought she was asking on Nedley’s behalf… but then, he’d just admitted he wouldn’t tell Nedley himself. Maybe she really was making progress and building bridges with Black Badge.

“Any connection to the kidnapping?”

“None.” Dolls’ response was short and too quick. Nicole wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Poor Shorty.”

“Yeah. We have his body, we're doing a full autopsy, but our best guess is the stress of the ordeal was too much for his heart condition.”

Nicole later felt bad that this was the point at which she had gotten distracted, but Waverly had finally extracted herself from her boyfriend’s clutches and was wandering over to her sister on the other side of the bar. Now she was away from Champ, Nicole felt calmer and less anxious. A gentle smile worked its way onto her face as she watched the brunette.

“She said she was glad I called,” she said vaguely to no one in particular. 

“I'll bet,” Dolls said, snapping her out of the dopey-smile daze she had fallen into. 

She looked at him and he looked right back with his calculating stare. It was like he could see right through her and tell what she was thinking, but he said nothing further and returned his attention to surveying the room like a human security camera. 

Nicole excused herself from the now-ended conversation and went to sit at a table by herself in the corner, ordering a shot of bourbon from the bar on the way. She dropped into the seat with a sigh and chewed on her lip, staring at the liquid in the shot glass for a moment. 

_ If this were an old cowboy movie, I’d be wanting to offload my woes to the barkeep right about now _ , she thought sadly. Not that she’d ever been one for offloading her woes to anyone. She played her thoughts pretty close to the chest generally, but today she really felt the weight of her empty social circle. It was a cruel irony that today she could really have done with offloading to the barkeep. She could really have done with someone to talk to. Someone that wasn’t a robot like Dolls, or who wasn’t her boss, or who didn’t think the best part of being a Deputy was that you could make up legitimate sounding excuses to leave a car in the really convenient parking spots.

Today she wished she had someone close, here to talk to because evidently working the thoughts out in her head hadn’t done the trick. She looked over at Waverly as she talked to her sister, leaning on the pool table - a vision, despite the sorrow weighing her down. Nicole sighed and knew this crush wasn’t going anywhere. 

She looked distantly down at her own hands, her fingertips still tingling from Waverly’s touch. She couldn’t have imagined it… Waverly  _ had _ wanted to touch her. She’d squeezed her hand so tight and reached out so urgently when Nicole pulled away. Nicole wondered if it was just the loss of Shorty and a subsequent need to feel someone there. To know someone was watching out for her the way Shorty seemed to. Nicole sighed again and gazed over at the photo of Shorty on the table several feet away.

“Don’t worry Shorty,” she murmured, feeling just reflective enough to wonder if he could hear her. “I’ve got her back.”

She raised her glass to the photo in the frame and sent the bourbon down her throat in one go, coughing at the burn.


	5. Murder in Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, thanks for waiting for this update. We've reached the part of the series now (1x04) where Nicole was unforgivably absent so it's time to fill in some of those blanks.

It wasn’t that Purgatory had more murders than the city, it was that the number of Purgatory murders seemed disproportionate to its size. Honestly, it was a miracle they hadn’t run out of townsfolk by now.

In the city, murder was an unfortunately frequent enough occurrence that there were dedicated homicide detectives ready, poised to investigate. The closest Nicole had ever really gotten to a murder scene was standing outside keeping the morbidly curious spectators at bay. She wasn’t part of any crime-scene response unit, so there had been no cause for her to do anything other than help string up the yellow tape, direct traffic the other way and give people judging looks when they asked who died with a little too excited a look on their face. The judging looks part was a perk at least.

The perk of being a cop in Purgatory was that the dedicated homicide team was also the crime scene unit, the traffic control unit and the unit that helped the usual inebriates get home after a few too many at Shorty’s. It was one of the main reasons Nicole had taken the job here. It was a stunning place to live and the pay wasn’t bad, but it offered her the chance to get hands on with every part of police work going spare. A career as a small-town Sheriff’s Deputy offered better opportunities for experience and progression than the fruitless battle for experience that came with participating in the big city rat race. Here in Purgatory, Nicole wouldn’t have to be banished to the street outside the crime scene, cordoning off the sidewalk and ushering people behind the barriers. She was becoming Nedley’s right hand man - ahem, _woman_ \- a position that guaranteed her a spot right next to the action.

It was this knowledge that fuelled her more or less dumbfounded expression at being instructed by Nedley to ‘keep the rubberneckers at bay’.

“But… sir I want to stick with you, I want to _help_ ,” she insisted, confused as to why she was suddenly being benched.

Nedley generally didn’t telegraph his thoughts or his plans, but Nicole had been starting to get the impression that he’d pegged her as the Deputy he could turn to. They’d developed a good rapport with him as first in command and her as his second. Sometimes this rapport would take the form of an extra stack of reports on her desk to complete, or the graveyard shift that nobody else ever seemed to get lumbered with. To start with, Nicole had felt like it was a sort of hazing ritual for her being new. Next, she’d thought it was because Nedley was testing her, expecting her to prove herself. More recently she’d started to feel as if was because he knew he could rely on her to get the job done, and done _well_.

This... being physically halted in her tracks as she made to walk up the steps to the crime scene, being handed the roll of yellow tape… this felt like a punishment. For what, she couldn’t begin to say. As confused as she was, she wasn’t remotely prepared for the statement that followed.

“Well, your wish is my command Haught,” Nedley huffed grumpily. “I’ll be patrolling out front here as well.”

Nicole blinked and stared. For a moment she almost forgot herself and hissed a disbelieving “ _What??_ ” at her boss. Thankfully she regained her composure and simply pursed her lips, grinding her teeth together to distract herself. Nedley huffed again, scowling at the line of neighbourhood people that were trying to catch a glimpse as the coroner headed inside the building. Nicole watched him irritably amble over and tell them “there's nothing to see here folks.”

Nicole tried to catch a glimpse inside the building herself while her boss was occupied. Her efforts were cut short by the sound of a familiar voice approaching. She rolled her eyes.

“Officer Haught. I already spoke to Nedley. We'll take it from here.”

Nicole worked hard to force a neutral expression onto her face and turned to greet Dolls as he approached, Wynonna tailing behind, coffee in hand.

“Deputy Marshal,” Nice gave the most minute of nods by way of a hello, her lips pursed and eyes steely.

Dolls stormed on ahead without paying the redhead any further attention. Wynonna, sidled up to Nicole and gave her an exaggerated wink.

“I think he secretly likes you,” she declared unconvincingly, before following him up the steps and into the house. Nicole might have laughed if she hadn't had to grind her molars to keep from growling in frustration.

Wynonna Earp, who had been deputised all of a few weeks ago, was attending the murder scene of a town local while she, _Officer_ Haught, Sheriff's Deputy, was reduced to waiting outside on crowd control. And if her nose was as on point like she thought, she was pretty sure it hadn't been coffee in that cup.

Nicole dutifully began cordoning off the area of pavement outside the residence, insisting along with Nedley that there was “nothing to see here” and that the neighbours should just go on home.

 _I'm so glad I spent all that time and effort training to be a cop_ , she thought bitterly. She huffed a hefty sigh that Nedley himself would have been proud of and tucked her thumbs in her belt while she let her mind drift a little.

She tried to remind herself that, in terms of her career, she was still something of a rookie. Compared with her coworkers, she'd been there all of five minutes. Frustrating as it was to be sidelined by BBD yet again, her main beef was with Nedley and the fact that he had apparently conceded defeat to Dolls. The Sheriff wasn't stupid. Sure he was a tad old fashioned, very stuck in his ways and more than a little grumpy at times, but he always insisted he knew how the town worked and knew what was best to do with it. Nicole had lapped it up when she'd first arrived but the ‘knowing looks’ he shot her when she pushed too hard for answers were starting to wear thin.

She glanced over at him. The Sheriff was deep in conversation with the owner of the auto shop a block over, and he wasn’t looking her way. She chewed her lip, deliberating for a moment.

Eyes fixed to the back of Nedley’s head, she took a casual step closer to the building’s front door. And then another. And another. And then one more. She was now at the foot of the steps leading up into the house. She risked a glance inside the open front door and caught a glimpse of her coworker, Phelps. He was crouched, taking photos of something on the ground with his iPad.

 _Oh sure, Phelps is allowed in,_ she thought bitterly.

Nicole generally liked to think of herself as a nice person and she tried her best not to judge people or be unnecessarily unkind. She’d been determined to keep an open mind when she’d first been introduced to Officer Phelps, but he’d made it difficult when she’d shaken his hand and his first words to her had been, “Haught, like as in ‘hot-dog’?” She was used to the jokes about her name but he had said it so earnestly and waited so patiently for a sincere response that she had no choice but to conclude that he was serious. “Uh… no,” had been her reply. Since then he had demonstrated similar ‘moments’ including asking if anyone had seen the hat that was perched on his head at the time, and not grasping why his fellow officers had laughed at him the day he brought a baked potato with a side of fries for lunch.

So yeah, Nicole tried not to be unkind but Phelps… Well Phelps was simply dumber than a bag of hammers. Heart of gold, but brain of dishwater all the same.

And there he was, on the inside of the crime scene, taking photos and hopefully not contaminating too much evidence, while the Sheriff and every other officer with a clue stood outside entertaining the punters. Normally the roles would be totally reversed - Phelps was Nedley’s go-to man for keeping the locals back as he was at least a very friendly guy. A red flag started to wave in Nicole’s mind. Something about that stood out as particularly odd. She logged it away in her mind to come back to later.

Nicole let her eyes wander back to the street and started casually making pretend notes in her pad, tilting her ear towards the open door.

“...I haven't seen this much blood since Kandahar.” She heard Dolls’ voice from within the room beyond.

 _Bingo_.

“What were you doing in Iraq?” There was Wynonna’s voice. Nicole rolled her eyes, appalled at the Earp’s grasp of geography. Wasn’t _she_ the one who had travelled?

“Afghanistan, and I'm gonna get you a map. And I'm not at liberty to discuss.”

 _I guess everybody in Purgatory is on a need-to-know-basis,_ Nicole thought. _What an ass. He was the one who brought it up after all._

“You brought it up,” Wynonna scoffed a moment later. Nicole smirked. “God damn. Megan Halshford.”

“Friend of yours?”

“Hell, no. Couldn't stand her.”

“Well, whoever did this made quick work of it. Clean slice through the carotid and jugular. She would have been dead within a minute or so.”

“Nasty.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

“I feel like I should be surprised that _that’s_ the word you went for. And yet…”

“No, _this_ is interesting. Her hands, see?”

“You’re right. She has _two of them_ \- stop the presses!”

“They’re unusually _clean_. Not much blood on them. Doesn’t look like she tried to stop the bleeding at all.”

“Maybe she was busy trying to stop whoever was trying to dice her up. That’d be my go-to priority.”

“If that was the case she’d have been moving around a lot more, _and_ we’d see evidence of another person being here. Blood droplets, prints, particulates…”

“Okay, you’re just saying random words now.”

Lost in the act of eavesdropping, Nicole had forgotten to even slightly keep up the pretense of doing the job she’d been given. She started when she realised Nedley had walked up in front of her, arms folded. He waited patiently for the explanation he knew she was hurriedly making up on the spot.

“Uh, sir I uh… I was making note of the uh…” She paused and cringed.

Nedley glanced from side to side, to check they were alone, and then leant in with hushed tones. “If you hear anything you think we ought to be in the loop on, let me know. Just you make sure you’re doing your job in the meantime.”

Nicole nods, unsure of whether she’d just been told off or let in on something. She decided to just accept the apparently lucky escape as Nedley turned his attention back to the crowd. She was in the process of leaning back around to the doorway when someone barged past her, shoving her heavily in the shoulder.

“Woops. Sorry there _pardner_ ,” Wynonna drawled, not stopping as she went and not looking sorry at all.

Dolls glided down the steps after her looking as stone-faced as usual. Nicole called after him.

“Hey, Deputy Marshal.” Dolls stopped and turned, very deliberately. His brow rose in question. “You need any support from us, you just let us know.” Nicole offered. Dolls gave a non committal nod and stalked away after Wynonna, pushing through the small crowd of locals.

Nicole ground her teeth. Piqued as she was by having to offer ‘support’ to the BBD for what was supposed to be a police matter, she was anxious not to undo the progress she’d made in communicating with Dolls. Well, maybe ‘communicating’ was a strong word, but a silent nod was still better than threatening arrest for treason. And anyway, if she’d heard what she thought she’d heard then perhaps this wasn’t just a police matter after all.

Nicole flipped open her notebook to the back, where there were pages filled with notes titled ‘BBD’. She started to scribble away urgently.

  * _Megan Halshford - NOT Wynonna’s friend._
  * __Throat cut - carotid and jugular = dead in a minute.__
  * _Hands clean, didn’t try to stop the bleeding. Didn’t seem to fight off attacker._
  * _No evidence of another person at the scene._
  * _Dolls doesn’t tell Wynonna everything._
  * _Dolls was in Kandahar - involved lots of blood._



 She flipped the notepad closed, looking cautiously around to make sure nobody had been watching her.

It was definitely too early to start drawing any conclusions yet about why the BBD was in Purgatory or why this murder fell into their jurisdiction, but Nicole felt like the information she had was starting to build the bare bones of a picture. All she needed to do was keep her ear to the ground and her eyes open. Eventually there would be enough to join the dots.

 

* * *

 

 Nicole knocked back the last of her tepid coffee and shuddered as it made it's way down. OK, maybe ‘tepid’ had been generous. Still, it was coffee and she certainly needed the boost. She'd ended up stuck with a double shift as the call about Megan Halshford’s murder had come in while she was on call early that morning. By the time the scene was cleared she'd seen no point it going back home for the hour and a half until she was due on shift again, and she wouldn't be done until midnight. She'd been processing speeding tickets until two am the night before and by this point she was hitting her first energy wall.

She leant back in her chair with a yawn and blinked the tired out of her eyes.

Nope. She'd definitely need a fresh coffee if she stood a chance of making it to her next break.

She grabbed her mug and got to her feet, checking if Stevens or Tate on the other side of the bullpen wanted a refill.With her coworkers’ mugs balanced in her hands she made her way to the break room, praying that someone had actually put the cream back in the fridge this time instead of leaving it on the counter top to turn to cheese.

She nudged open the break room door with her foot and careful laid the mugs out beside the coffee machine. She sighed as she started making the drinks, for a moment missing the big city where she never had to make any herself because there was a coffee cart on every corner. She closed her eyes and let herself remember the smell of quality coffee beans. She opened them and looked back down at the sad old coffee maker on the counter top. It was stained with dribbly coffee lines and the lid had loosened over the years of use enough that it rattled like a bubbling pot on a stove whenever the thing was turned on.

 _It's got character,_ she told herself in some attempt at loyalty.

Her bonding moment with the coffee maker was then disrupted by the sound of stomping footsteps and an angry voice in the hallway outside.

“... you think that I'm not gonna go introduce his ass to the sidewalk? C’mon Baby Girl you know me better than that.” Nicole rolled her eyes as she recognised Wynonna dulcet tones.

She went to pop her head around the door to make sure everything was OK when she heard Waverly chime in and felt her heartbeat speed up a little.

“I know he's a grade-A jackass but think about it, if he'd really wanted to hit me he would have… ” Nicole couldn't contain the gasp as she clawed her way around the doorframe in time to see the older Earp storm out of the station entrance, as Waverly called after her. “Wynonna!”

Waverly groaned irritability as she watched her sister go.

“Hey is everything OK?” Nicole said softly, still leaning on the doorframe.

Waverly whirled around, startled. She seemed to be startled all over again when she registered that it was Nicole standing in front of her.

“No, I mean yes. It's nothing, don't worry about it.” She waved her hand dismissively and smiled. “It's just Wynonna bein’ all…   _Wynonna_. You've met her right?”

“Well not properly but, she seems… Interesting.” Nicole let go of the doorframe and took a step closer to the woman in front of her, chewing the inside of her lip. “Listen, I'm real sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop but… Did somebody try to hit you?”

Waverly suddenly went rigid and the smile disappeared from her eyes.

“No… no, no it's uh… it's just a silly… _blackjack!”_

Nicole blinked. “Blackjack?”

“Yeah, you know like when you draw a card, sometimes you say it like ‘hit me!’... And it's just this friend of ours, he gets a little too into the game…” the smile was back on Waverly’s face again and Nicole mirrored it back without even realising it.

“Right,” she nodded vaguely with no attempt to disguise how unconvinced she was by the blackjack story. “Well, just so long as your _friends_ are behaving themselves.” She grit her teeth a little as Champ briefly flickered through her mind. She dismissed it. He was a doofus but there was no evidence he was violent and it wasn’t fair to make that assumption just because _she_ thought he was cretin.

Silence fell between them for a moment. Waverly’s eyes had dropped down and she was fiddling with the hem of her own shirt. Nicole took a breath and swallowed as the silence started to make her pulse race again.

“I've been meaning to drop by actually and see how you've been doing since… Shorty.” Waverly looked up at the mention of Shorty’s name. “How’re you holding up?”

The brunette smiled very slightly and gave a meek little shrug. “Alright I guess. Gus, my aunt, has been running the bar since. Things have been quieter. Still getting used to him not being around.”

Waverly cast her eyes down again, her shoulders hunched in a little, picking at her hem again. Nicole instinctively reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder before she'd lost her nerve.

“Well, if you ever need anything,” she started to say. And then Waverly looked up expectantly and Nicole's confidence evaporated. What was she about to offer? A shoulder to cry on? Some company? It suddenly felt far too forward to suggest anything so presumptuous. She finished with, “you know you can call _us_.”

Us. The police. Not Nicole specifically. Good save. She let her hand drop back to her side.

Waverly smiled and nodded again, her eyes never leaving Nicole's. They stood there, pupils locked on each other's, for what felt like ages though it probably wasn’t, until-

“Haught! What's the hold up, my two-year-old can make coffee faster than this!” Officer Tate’s voice echoed down the hallway and Nicole huffed a sigh, looking away and breaking the connection with Waverly. The brunette smiled jovially and looked away too, seemingly embarrassed.

“Well, uh… Duty calls,” Nicole said, pointing her thumb casually over her shoulder at the breakroom.

“Yeah, I'm... totally. Me too,” Waverly started to ramble again, wringing her hands and leaning towards the door. “I uh, gotta get to work. Those beers won't pour themselves!” she laughed and Nicole couldn't help but laugh too as she backed up towards the break room.

“OK, sure. Well, don't be a stranger.”

Waverly nodded as she headed out the door, averting her eyes quickly away from the red-headed officer as she went. Nicole let out a long, slow breath and returned to the coffee maker.

 

* * *

 

 It was happy hour so, naturally, Nedley was already over at Shorty’s. He’d taken Nicole over there once when she’d first started in town, insisting that it was legitimate police work. Under the guise of socialising, he’d made it clear that this was his way of keeping an eye on what the Purgatory regulars were up to. After a few rounds folks are never as quiet as they think they are, and there’s a lot you can… _overhear_.

It was all lost on Nicole of course as she didn’t know anyone and it seemed like the subtle nuances of people’s suspicious behaviour was reliant on knowing what their ‘normal’ was first. She wasn’t worried though, as she knew she’d probably pick it up in time. There was no rush for her to yet though as Nedley always had that avenue covered.

When her phone started to ring and Nedley’s number popped up, Nicole rolled her eyes. She was undoubtedly about to get roped into providing another courtesy ride for one of the locals who had drank too much. She picked up the phone.

“Afternoon sir, what can I do you for?” She chirped cheerfully.

The seriousness of Nedley’s voice took all the chirp out of Nicole’s cheer. “Haught, I need you to head over here stat. There’s been an incident. We’re gonna have to hand it over to Dolls again, but I just spoke with him and they’re miles across town so I need some backup right now to… contain things.”

“Sir?” Nicole loaded all the questions she could into the single syllable.

“I’ll fill you in a little more when you get here but, it’s most likely connected to the incident this morning. For everyone’s sake we need to keep this low-key for now.”

Nicole’s hand absent mindedly clenched into a victorious fist. BBD weren’t going to be on scene for at least the time being, and if this was another case that was going to get swept away behind closed doors then Nicole wanted to get as much information as she could before it disappeared.

“I’m on my way sir.” She put the phone down, grabbed her hat, keys and jacket and was out the door in a flash.

She didn’t turn on her blue lights for the ride over there - no need to draw attention to herself and the streets of Purgatory were never busy to begin with. She arrived at Shorty’s and pushed open the door, scanning the room for the Sheriff. She spotted him over by the door to the bathroom. He was in a heated conversation with one of the regulars, Greg Hitchley, that Nicole had driven home a couple of times because he was blind drunk.

“C’mon Randy where the hell else am I gonna take a piss? You’re only gonna’ arrest me if I do it outside.”

“That’s _Sheriff Nedley_ , Greg and yeah of course I’m gonna arrest you if you take a leak in the street. Now, there’s some broken glass in there and we just need to get it all cleaned up so no one gets hurt. Why don’t you go on over the road and use the restroom at the diner. Tell ‘em I said it’s ok and I’ll buy an extra round of coffees to make it up to them.”

Greg swayed his way irritably across the room towards the door, only just missing crashing into Nicole as she passed him. As she approached Nedley, she spotted Waverly sat at the closest table, her arms hugged around her middle, her eyes gazing vacantly ahead. Nicole forced her attention back to her boss, fighting the urge to go check that the brunette was ok.

“Sir,” she said quietly as she approached. “What’s the situation?”

Nedley glanced over her shoulder briefly, to check nobody was watching, and then nodded for her to follow him into the bathroom. “Brace yourself.”

Nicole wasn’t remotely braced for what was in the room beyond.

Blood. Lots of it. A middle-aged man lay in the main pool of it, his throat cut. Nicoles eyes darted around the room, taking it all in. Someone had smeared the blood across the bathroom mirror, spelling out the words ‘Repent Sinners’. Handcuffed to the plumbing in the corner was a man that looked like he’d walked straight out of every western movie Nicole had ever seen, moustache and all. He tipped his hat to her as she looked at him.

“Ma’am,” he said politely.

She whirled around to Nedley. “Did he-”

“He’s swearing blind he just found him this way,” Nedley replied before Nicole had even gotten the question out. “Could be he’s telling the truth, but he was found in here holding a knife over the body. No doubt Dolls’ll have his own questions for him.”

Nicole lowered her voice. “Two murders in one day? You don’t think this is-”

“-Nobody’s talking about a serial killer.” Nedley muttered as quietly as he could. “At this point we don’t know anything for sure. What I need you to do for now is take photos of the scene and note everything as detailed as you can.”

Nicole nodded and Nedley made his way over to the cowboy in the corner, uncuffing him from the pipes and restraining his hands behind his back instead. He walked him out of the bathroom.

“C’mon then Mr…”

“Henry,” the cowboy drawled with a sigh. “John Henry.”

And then Nicole was alone. She took a deep breath and set to work.

She was quick and methodical, taking photos of every angle and scribbling notes down in her book about the stall door off its hinges, the size and shape of the cut on the man’s throat… She tried to spot any obvious fingerprints in the bloodied message on the mirror and photographed closeups where she found any. She didn’t think about the horror of the situation - that a man had been brutally murdered and that she was cataloguing the information like she was doing inventory. That was what being a cop meant. It meant she had to stow away her feelings and just do the work. She wasn’t sure if she felt proud or disgusted that she was managing to do so with relative ease.

As she worked, she could just about hear the hushed conversation taking place right outside the door between Nedley and John Henry.

“So you just met the guy and you were drinking his booze?”

“That is the honest truth Sheriff. Since the _delightful_ woman running this establishment declined my request to purchase my own whiskey I was required to improvise. The unfortunate fellow was kind enough to oblige.”

“When he went to the bathroom did you see anyone else go in or out?”

“Truthfully Sheriff I was somewhat preoccupied, but no. I do not recall seeing another person.”

“So you’re telling me nobody else went in or out and yet you just _happened_ to walk in there and find him?”

“Indeed.”

Nicole stood up straight and surveyed the rest of the room. She wasn’t sure if there was much else for her note down so she stowed her notepad away and left the scene. Nedley had Henry sat in a chair beside the bathroom door as he questioned him. Waverly was staring at the cowboy intently, her eyes focused and accusatory. Nicole gripped her belt buckle tightly. Had Waverly been the one to find Henry in there with the knife? Had Waverly seen the bloody horror show?

Nicole shot a nod at Nedley as she emerged from the bathroom and she went over to crouch down next to Waverly. The young Earp’s eyes stayed fixed on Henry.

“Waverly,” Nicole said gently, trying to get her attention.

“I’m fine,” Waverly replied shortly, her voice firm and calm, her eyes not budging.

“You were the one that found him?”

Waverly nodded.

“Did you see… the moment itself?”

Waverly shook her head. “I walked in and… there was no one else in there.”

“Waverly,” Nicole repeated, tentatively laying a hand on the other woman’s shoulder like she had done earlier. Waverly finally looked around. “Are you ok? Do you need me to call anyone or do you need to talk to somebody?”

Waverly paused for a moment and it was clear to Nicole at least that she was spooked. “No,” she said briskly. “No, no I’m fine I’m just… I’m all good. Wynonna’s on her way and my aunt is here, so…” she gestured over to the bar where an older woman with short, grey hair was watching them apprehensively.

Nicole gave her a little wave and she nodded back, her expression impossible to read. She looked back to Waverly, opening her mouth to speak. She didn’t get that far though as the door to the bar opened heavily and the BBD dream team walked in.

Nicole made a mental note that it was Wynonna, not Dolls, leading the way across the bar towards the crime scene. She gave Waverly’s arm gentle squeeze and shot her a small smile then retreated to Nedley’s side as Wynonna approached. She deliberately didn’t look to see if Waverly had smiled back. Wynonna took up Nicole’s spot crouched in front of Waverly and put a hand to the side of the younger Earp’s face, as if checking her over. Waverly gave her sister a nod of reassurance.

Dolls approached Nedley.

“Sheriff,” he nodded.

“You’ll be thrilled to know we’ve kept it on the down-low,” Nedley said grudgingly. “Going with the story of broken glass to keep folks out. Might have to be a bit more creative mind you to explain why we take a body bag outta there. No doubt you’ll be all over this one.”

“No doubt,” Dolls repeated robotically. “Anything else I should be aware of?” He looked expectantly from Nedley to Nicole and she felt pleased at least that he was including her in this conversation.

Nedley darted his eyes down at Henry and back up again. “This one was in there with a knife. John Henry. Says he just found the guy like that.”

Dolls fixed his eyes on Henry and stared so intently that Nicole honestly wondered for a moment if he really was a robot, analyzing a subject. He looked back at Nedley.

“Got it. We’ll take it from here Sheriff. You can escort Mr Henry here back to holding.” Dolls then wordlessly turned and walked into the bathroom.

Nicole turned to her boss. “He’s a charmer,” she said, deadpan.

Nedley scowled and huffed his usually irritated sigh. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things. You take this one back to the station.”

Nicole nodded and took Henry’s arm, pulling him to his feet. She began walking him towards to door and chanced one last look back at Waverly as she went. She saw the young Earp following Wynonna into the bathroom. Why on earth was Waverly going into the crime scene? Exactly what _was_ her role with the BBD?

She looked forwards again as she passed by the bar and gave Gus a polite nod as she realised she was being watched.

 

“Officer,” Gus nodded back. Her expression had changed, but was still somewhat unreadable. Nicole frowned as she thought she caught the hint of a grin.

  



	6. Behind Closed Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're still on 1x04 and Nicole has to deal with behind kept in the dark as Black Badge gets into the swing of taking on the unusual cases in town. Also, Phelps is totally based on a real person that I knew and I'm loving being able to immortalise his face-palmy style moments in written word. Enjoy. 
> 
> Thanks for your comments, the feedback is always helpful!

John Henry had been silent in the back seat of Nicole's cruiser all the way back to the precinct. He had been silent as she escorted him out of the car and into the station. He had been silent as she took his photo and prints. He had been silent as Nicole had processed him into holding, which meant she had to leave most of the paperwork incomplete - which she _hated_ doing. She had just about had enough of the silent treatment by the time she, with gritted teeth, walked him into the holding cell, uncuffed his wrists and slid the door shut.

“Much obliged officer,” Henry said finally, tipping his hat.

Nicole stared. “Seriously? _Now_ you talk.”

“My father always told me a man ain’t nothin’ without good manners,” Henry shrugged, making himself comfy on the bench.

“And you don't think it's bad manners to waste police time by not answering questions when you're asked them?” Nicole put a hand on her hip and waited to see if she'd get an actual answer this time.

“My apologies officer, I seem to have riled you and I assure you that was not my intent,” Henry spoke slowly and deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world to deliver every syllable. “Quite the opposite in fact as I do believe that Miss Wynonna Earp is likely to have some questions of her own and I would hate to cause anyone to repeat themselves.” he gave her a nod and smile that even Nicole had to admit was frustratingly charming.

She stared at him for a moment longer, waiting for him to drop the John Wayne routine, but nope. This seemed to actually be the way he spoke. She sighed.

“So you're telling me if I go get those forms and ask you again to tell me your zipcode, or date of birth or someone we can contact, you'll just… Not answer again? ”

Here, Henry gave her a gentle smile and then very pointedly lowered his hat over his eyes and leant back casually on the bench. Nicole rolled her eyes and trudged back towards her desk in the bullpen. For possibly the first time, she was actually a little glad that the BBD would be handling this one.

* * *

 

Dolls and Wynonna had returned to the station not long after she'd given up on getting answers out of Henry. Waverly had been with them and Nicole had tried to ignore her disappointment when the brunette hadn't noticed her small wave of hello. The trio had disappeared into the Black Badge offices and then into the interrogation room soon after to speak with Henry. Another short while after _that_ and all three left the station again, Henry back in his cell.

Nicole had absolutely no expectation that Dolls would share any insights drawn from the conversation with Henry, but Nedley had also gotten very close-mouthed about the whole thing when he returned to the precinct. She’d tried to talk to him about the murder victim - a Jay Novak, apparently - and his response had been to remind Nicole that she had speeding fines to file. She resigned herself to the likelihood that she had heard the last she was going to hear about the day’s second suspicious murder. This however would have little to no effect on her resolve to look into it regardless.

She grabbed an empty folder and clipped into it all the notes she had taken that day on both the Megan Halshford murder and Jay Novak. With one eye on Nedley’s office, making sure the big man didn’t see what she was doing, she loaded the crime scene photos from her phone and sent them to the printer, timing it strategically to avoid her coworkers picking them up. She slid the photos into the file, made a few further notes in reference to each one and then placed them in the top drawer of her desk and locked it tight.

She glanced around to see whether she had been watched by anyone. As a testament to the inquisitive and perceptive nose for investigation of the Purgatory Sheriff’s Department, Stevens did notice her cautious scan of the room. Their eyes met and she held her breath.

He lifted his mug. “How ‘bout another round o’ java, Haught?” He winked and gave the mug a little jiggle for emphasis.

She found herself once again carrying a handful of empty mugs to the break room to go another round with the temperamental coffee machine. It was an acceptable chore if it meant she didn’t have to explain why she was building a secret case file about unusual murders. She dropped into a chair as the coffee pot spluttered its way towards boiling, daydreaming of rich, foamy cappuccinos from big city coffee carts.

“Oh don’t let me disturb you,” said a gruff, cynical voice.

Nicole’s eyes snapped open in a panic as she realised she’d started to doze off. She blinked rapidly and pushed herself to her feet, straightening her shirt under the reproachful gaze of the Sheriff in the doorway.

“I’m sorry sir,” she gabbled hurriedly. “I just sat down for a second--”

“I’d make that espresso shot a double,” Nedley advised with a nod a the coffee maker. His jacket was under his arm and his keys in hand, a clear sign he was headed home. “Just make sure you’ve got an eye on the door at least this evening. I know it’s been a… _long_ day. You in tomorrow?”

“No sir. It’s my day off.” She paused thoughtfully. “In which I will be catching up on some sleep to be bright-eyed and bushy tailed for Thursday.” She said with a resolved nod.

“Good,” Nedley nodded. “You should make use of the down time. Leave work at work for a day. See some friends. You made many friends in town yet?”

“A couple,” Nicole lied, unsure of exactly why he was asking.

“Good, that’s good.” Nedley fiddled with his keys. “Well... have a good day off.”

“Sir?” Nedley paused mid-way through his turn to leave. Nicole took a breath. “Are the murder cases officially handed over to Black Badge?”

Nedley’s expression stiffened almost imperceptibly, then he slackened and waved a hand dismissively, dropping his gaze. “The cases look to be part of an ongoing investigation they’re running. Involves folk from out of town. Barely our jurisdiction to begin with and we don’t need the extra paperwork-”

Nicole couldn’t help but interrupt. “But _sir_ , the victims are local, how could it _not_ be our jurisdiction? And if there are… _unusual circumstances_ surrounding the murders then doesn’t it make sense for us and Black Badge to pool our resources and-”

Nedley put out a hand to gesture for silence. “I love the enthusiasm Haught, but you’d be better off saving it for the stuff that really does need your attention.”

“Like filing speeding tickets?” The words were out and hanging in the air before Nicole could stop them. Oops.

Nedley broke the momentary silence. “Like I said, you should maybe just think about taking tomorrow to… _unwind_. Detach. Leave work at work.”

Nicole nodded, her jaw clenched. She watched Nedley go without another word.

* * *

 

With just an hour of her shift left, Nicole was making one final coffee in the break room when she heard the scream.

She was out of the break room and toward the sound, hand ready on her sidearm before she’d even really processed what she’d heard. It had been a man, she thought. It sounded like a scream of pain - sudden, extreme and then silence. She reached the bullpen, eyes darting around for the source. Phelps was the only other officer on duty, and his eyes were fixed on the door of the BBD. She'd seen Dolls, Wynonna and Waverly return to the station an hour or so earlier. 

She was about to ask whether anyone had gone in or come out when a new sound pierced the silence: a gunshot, followed by the sound of smashing glass.

Her sidearm was out of its holster now and Phelps was on his feet. He looked at her like he was waiting for an instruction. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Sure, Phelps wasn’t the most dynamically proactive officer at the precinct, but he had years of experience on her. She was supposedly the rookie, yet here he was waiting to follow _her_ lead. She held up a hand indicating for him to wait and then crept towards the BBD doorway, listening for another sound. A few moments passed and she could dimly hear voices beyond.

She hesitated, the phrase ‘arrested for treason’ floating through her mind when she considered opening the door. She wouldn’t put it past Dolls to follow through on that threat and if they were working on official government business in there then maybe he would have every right to.

But it was a _gunshot_ and as far as Nicole knew, Waverly Earp was inside. 

 _Screw it_ , she thought and reached out for the door handle just as someone opened it from the other side.

The young Earp herself burst through the door and barrelled into Nicole, nearly knocking her off her feet.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Waverly gasped as she grabbed Nicole’s arms, trying to steady her. “I had no idea anyone was stood-- Ahh!”

Nicole followed Waverly’s line of sight to the cause of her cry of alarm. Phelps had obviously panicked and was aiming his gun at the two women in the door way. Nicole instinctively flung herself in front of Waverly like a shield.

“Phelps! Put your goddamn gun down!” She barked.

“Oh, uh my bad.” Phelps fumbled with his sidearm as he returned it to its holster.

Nicole let out an exasperated sigh, glaring daggers at him as she turned back to Waverly.

“Everything ok in there? We heard screams and gunfire.” Waverly lunged out to the door to pull it closed hurriedly as Nicole looked up and then attempted a ‘casual’ lean on the doorframe.

“Oh yeah it’s totally fine,” she said dismissively. “It’s just… uh… Wynonna was showing Dolls a new karate move and um… and then she was making sure her gun was shooting straight…” Nicole raised an eyebrow as even Waverly’s own expression broadcast openly that what she was saying was nonsense. Waverly seemed to realise that nobody was buying it and changed tact. “I was just going to go grab Dolls some aspirin, do you know if there’s any in the break room?” She feigned sincere interest in her quest for painkillers and started to walk away. Nicole followed.

“Look, I get that Black Badge is club classified or whatever, but there were screams,” she said, holstering her own firearm as she chased Waverly down the hallway. “And a gunshot.” She sped ahead of Waverly and put an arm out across the doorframe of the break room, barring access and causing the Earp to stop suddenly right beside her.

She felt a lump form in her throat as Waverly looked up at her with an expression that Nicole interpreted as alarm. She swallowed and withdrew her arm, tucking her thumbs behind her belt buckle and taking a step back.  

“You’re gonna have to give me more to go on than kung-fu practise,” Nicole said softly.

“Karate,” Waverly corrected her quietly, casting her eyes away sheepishly.

Nicole couldn’t stop the smile from forcing its way out onto her face. She breathed a sigh of relief as Waverly smiled back at her with that smile that could rival a sun. They let the tension dissipate for a few seconds before either of them spoke again.

“Ok, so the truth is Wynonna accidentally shot a mirror,” Waverly said at last. “And you don’t have to worry because Dolls has already told her off.”

Nicole chewed the inside of her lip. Every fibre of her being told her that this still wasn’t the truth, but she wanted to trust Waverly. Trust that, even if she wasn’t telling her exactly what was going on, she knew what she was doing and wasn’t covering up anything illegal or dangerous. She hoped. “Right,” she said shortly.

She turned and walked into the break room, going to the cupboard with the medical supplies, and grabbing the painkillers from the top shelf. She handed them to Waverly, their fingers brushing momentarily in the exchange. She felt her heart thud extra hard against her ribcage and realised that it had been beating irregularly fast since Waverly had come bursting through that door. She tried to keep her breathing steady.

“Thanks,” Waverly said almost in a whisper.

They walked back down the hall to the bullpen and the door to the BBD. Nicole watched her re-enter the Black Badge office and almost did a double-take when she caught a glimpse of someone inside.

“Was that Henry?” She gaped as the door closed behind Waverly.

“Oh, yeah,” Phelps replied helpfully, looking up from the report he was working on.

Nicole stared. “ _Why_ is John Henry in the Black Badge office? He’s supposed to be in a cell.”

“Oh, Waverly asked me to come release him earlier,” Phelps explained. “Said it was on instruction from Deputy Marshal Dolls and Deputy Earp. The _other_ Earp.”

Nicole pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and attempting to enhance her calm. “So you released a prisoner to a civilian just because she told you someone else said it was ok?”

“Well she’s a Black Badge _consultant_ ,” Phelps said, matter-of-factly. “And anyway, it’s _Waverly_.”

Nicole felt all the tension evaporate from her shoulders and she sighed. _Yeah_ , she thought to herself as that dopey smile started to creep back onto her face and she felt like she was floating away on a happy cloud. _It’s Waverly. I’d probably have done it too._


	7. Someone to Talk to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phew! It took a while to get time to write this week, so apologies for the gap between chapters. We're at about 1x05/1x06 now.  
> I feel like, considering how relieved she is when she finally finds out what's going on in Purgatory in 1x13, Nicole must have spent a lot of time going back and forth trying to figure everything out. Wouldn't you start to feel like you were going crazy?

Nicole's radio crackled into life as she drove her cruiser across town to the station. It was just past one in the afternoon and she was on her way to work to start that day's shift. 

She sighed as Gale from dispatches voice spoke out from the speaker at Nicole's shoulder. A local unit was needed to pick up a drunk from Shorty’s.

“Looks like Hamish Carson will need to be taken home. Gus has already got his keys so no trouble anticipated.” 

_The Purgatory_ _lunchtime rush,_ she thought to herself as she responded to the call and adjusted her route. 

“I'm on it Gale.”

Midday courtesy rides for the folks who had drunk one too many at Shorty’s was a staple of a Purgatory police officer’s week. Nicole was no stranger to the idea that people drank, nor the idea that some people drank arguably too much at antisocial hours of the day. In Purgatory though, the people that she would drive home at lunch time were often the same people that would somehow be back in the bar later that evening, and the same people that would serve her pancakes at the diner the next morning or show up to fix a flat tyre at the road side with an energetic spring in their step. There was a normality to the routine that seemed to negate the side effects of alcohol consumption beyond a few hours of slurring and sleep. Either that, or the whole town was just permanently drunk. 

She pulled her cruiser up to the kerb outside Shorty's and killed the engine. Her eyes glanced at the front door as she pretended to be fiddling with her notepad for a moment. Her heart beat gained that familiar extra weight that seemed to go hand in hand with proximity to what Nicole was starting to think of as ‘Earp Zones’. She wondered if Waverly was working today. She hoped so. It had been a few days since she'd seen the young Earp and she was hoping for a chance to invite her for a coffee. After all, Waverly technically still owed her one. 

She grabbed her stetson from the passenger seat and stepped out of the car, straightening her uniform and brushing away any surface dust or lint that she could see before striding confidently through the front door of the building. Inside, she gripped her belt buckle to distracted herself from the compulsion to wring her hands nervously and looked around. The bar was fairly quiet, with maybe fewer than a dozen of the regulars dotted around. 

She looked to the bar where she could see Hamish face down, eyes closed and unmoving. Gus was stood behind the bar and caught Nicole's eye as she walked in. She nodded for the young Deputy to come over.

Nicole made her way across the room, taking her hat off and resting it down on the bar. 

“Afternoon Ma’am,” she started, but Gus cut her short. 

“Gus’ll do just fine,” she dismissed the formality with a wave of her hand. “I wasn't quite expectin’ anyone to come by so quick. It normally takes the boys at the station a reasonable while to draw straws and come down here.”

“Well,” Nicole leaned in conspiratorially. “Things always take longer if you leave it to the  _ boys _ to organise them.”

Gus gave a hearty laugh. “Ain't that the truth.” She gestured at Hamish who looked very unconscious. “Looks like you might need to wait a few before Hamish is ready to take a walk. Can I get you anythin’?”

Nicole eyed up the coffee machine and decided she could spare a few minutes for Hamish to come round. 

“A cappuccino would be great actually, thank you.”

Gus set to making the coffee and Nicole slid onto a bar stool, trying subtly to scan the rest of the room. There was no obvious sign of Waverly. 

“You looking for someone?” 

Nicole's spun back around at Gus’ question and she realised the older woman had been watching her. 

“No, no just generally… Taking in the atmosphere.” Nicole aimed for casual but had a feeling her tone had fallen a little short of it. Time to change the subject. “I guess we haven't been properly introduced. I'm-”

“Officer Haught,” Gus supplied. “Nedley’s new star recruit. My Waverly mentioned you,” she added on seeing Nicole's surprised expression. 

The surprise only grew. 

_ Waverly mentioned me.  _

Nicole felt her heart thud a few extra heavy beats. She tried to keep her expression neutral and her breath steady, the older woman watching her carefully. 

“You're from out of town I hear,” Gus continued, handing Nicole the coffee. “How you findin’ Purgatory? Settled in OK?”

“It definitely has its…  _ quirks _ , doesn't it,” Nicole said with a smile and a glance at sleeping Hamish. “But yeah, I'm getting the hang of it all. Folks are all pretty friendly.” She gestured at Gus herself and the older woman let out a short laugh. 

“Hah! Don't believe that for a second.” She shot Nicole a friendly wink. “I’ll hand it to you though, you haven't run for the hills yet so you've either gotta be pretty stubborn or just plain crazy and either’ll do in this town.”

Nicole felt like that was probably the first completely true thing anyone had said about the town since she arrived. She smiled and slipped her coffee. 

“Wow that's actually great,” she said, licking the caffeinated foam from her lip. It was probably the best coffee she'd had since she'd arrived in Purgatory, though there admittedly wasn't much competition. 

“Crazy it is then,” Gus declared. She gave Nicole a knowing wink and set about cleaning the bar taps, leaving the redhead to her beverage. 

Nicole found herself looking idly around the room again, scanning for familiar faces. For a  _ particular  _ familiar face. She sighed, concluding resolutely that the room was Waverly-free. And why shouldn't it be? It's not like Waverly’s whole life revolved around her shifts at Shorty's. After all, she worked with Black Badge in some capacity. And she had - Nicole grit her teeth - a boyfriend, so she probably spent time with him too. Unfortunately. 

Really, Nicole didn't know much about the young Earp. Or the older Earp, for that matter. Or really  _ anyone  _ in town. Once again her mind cycled back around to her lack of decent friends in town and the subsequent lack of people to talk to about the numerous thoughts rolling around in her head. She was starting to get on a little better with her coworkers, she thought, but it was still early days and really there was nobody yet that she felt comfortable going to for advice or to share her theories about the BBD. She tried to avoid the word ‘lonely’ but it was working its way to the surface all the same. 

She let out an audible sigh, gazing down at her cup. 

“It's coffee, not whisky,” she heard Gus’ stern voice say. She looked up to find the woman staring at her, an eyebrow raised. “And it's far too early in the day for the ‘ _ rough day cowboy?’  _ conversation.”

“Sorry, what?” 

“You're lookin’ like you wanna drown your sorrows in that cup. I'm here to tell ya that particular beverage ain't gonna do the trick.”

“Oh! No, I'm fine just… just had a long week is all.” 

She smiled, genuinely, but Gus looked unconvinced as ever. Gus opened her mouth to speak again but at this moment, Hamish sat upright with a cough/snort combo. 

“Ahem. ‘Nuther round Gussss,” he slurred, pushing forward the glass he had been snuggling up to. 

“Looks like my coffee break is over,” Nicole smirked, downing the last of the cappuccino. “How much do I owe you?”

Gus dismissed the question with a wave. “Don't be daft girl, this won't be the last time you'll need to come by and take out the trash. Crappy coffee is a given.”

Nicole smiled gratefully as Hamish’s burrow frowned, realisation dawning on him that  _ he  _ was the trash. 

“Hey!”

“Oh hush it Hamish, I'll see ya again tomorrow.” Gus took the glass and cup, loading them into the tray for the kitchen as Nicole helped Hamish off his stool. 

“C’mon Mr Carson, let's get you home.”

“Oh, and officer?”

Nicole turned back to Gus as she called her. 

“Want some free advice?”

Nicole blinked, unsure of whether she'd regret it and said, “sure.”

“Long weeks can turn into long months and long years pretty quick. Sometimes it's good t’ just… let loose and get it all out.” Gus gave her what she hoped was meant as a reassuring nod. The rest of it was cryptic as hell. Nicole smiled and nodded back. 

“Thanks. I'll see you around.”

She helped Hamish stagger out of the building and into her cruiser and began the drive to his run-down house East of Purgatory central, mulling over Gus’ enigmatic words of wisdom.

 

* * *

 

Calamity Jane curled around Nicole's ankles as she opened her front door and stepped inside the house. Nicole smiled and reached down to scratch behind the ginger cat's ears. 

“Hey girl, have a good afternoon?”

It was nice having something alive in the house to come home to. To know that the building wasn't empty. That she wasn't totally alone. It also provided an excellent excuse for why she would frequently have conversations out loud with, effectively, herself. It wasn't like Calamity Jane was likely to answer. 

She kicked the door shut behind her and dropped her duffle bag on the bench seat to the side. The cat continued to coo around her affectionately as she took off her shoes and paired them neatly on the mat. 

_ Mrreow.  _

“OK, I know girl, I'm on it.”

She knew what the feline was after. A quick trip to the kitchen and a full bowl of cat food later and Calamity Jane's affections had miraculously transferred to her dinner, her owner now forgotten. 

Nicole chuckled and slouched down on the sofa. It was past midnight and she was certainly tired, but her mind was still too active to consider bed. 

She'd spent much of the day lost in thought, investigating and trying to make sense of the murders and strange occurrences that were filling up her secret case file. As predicted, the BBD had taken ownership of the cut-throat murder case and the rest of Purgatory SD was acting like nothing happened. 

Not Nicole though. She kept digging. She looked into the background of both victims, trying to find something that connected them, but no luck. She ran the prints she had photographed from the bloody message on the mirror at Shorty’s, but there had been no match. It seemed as well that John Henry had been inexplicably cleared of any suspicion with no further investigation and everyone was acting like that was  _ totally normal. _

It had been a frustrating day of dead ends. Nedley had made it clear already that the case was of little consequence to him and when she'd tried to bring the subject up casually in conversation with her coworkers she'd been met with a similar nonchalant response. 

She had almost been tempted to ask Wynonna about it when she'd seen her at the station that morning… But then Waverly had walked in and suddenly she'd forgotten what it was she was even supposed to be working on. 

Waverly. That had been another less than enjoyable part of the day. The brunette hadn't even glanced her way during the few times she went back and forth past the bullpen. Nicole had barely had time to sulk about this before the bell at the front desk rang and she found herself looking up to greet the baby-faced boy-man that was Champ Hardy. 

The friendly police officer smile Nicole usually started conversations with quickly evaporated. 

“Waverly here?” Champ asked, apparently not burdened with the compulsion to say hello like normal,  _ polite  _ people. 

He directed the question towards Phelps and Stevens who were at their own desks in the bullpen, but neither seemed to have an answer. 

“She's in with Black Badge, you'll have to wait,” Nicole replied shortly, looking back down at the report she had been reading. 

“Can't you just go tell her I'm here?” Champ asked impatiently. 

Nicole's eyes flicked up, her scowl clearly offering her thoughts on Champ’s request. The burly boy-man rolled his eyes and pulled his phone from his pocket, starting to tap away at the screen. 

Nicole tried to return to her work, but only a few moments passed before Champ’s cellphone rang and she was subjected to his loud, obnoxious conversation. 

“Yo Pete. Nah I'm gonna be late. Waiting for Waves at the cop shop. How the hell should I know, probably something to do with her sister.”

Nicole massaged her temples attempting to drown Champ out with little success. Sure, it was…  _ difficult  _ to get along with someone when you had a crazy crush on their other half, but more than that some people were just fundamentally unlikeable. In Nicole's opinion Champ definitely fell into that category. What on earth did Waverly see in him? 

His conversation went on. “I know man. It's cool though she'll get over this… _Sherlog Holmes_ detective phase soon I reckon. Yeah man I can't wait. Her crazy-ass sister’ll skip town again and she'll go back to normal. I mean Gus is running the bar now so it's perfect.”

Nicole didn't even notice that she had crumpled the corner of the report in her angered fist. ‘Sherlog Holmes’?  _ Seriously?  _

“Anyway we'll be there when we can,” Champ droned like a petulant child. “Don't you dare beat my high score. Yeah. Save me some nachos.”

It was lucky that Champ was in a world of his own as he hung up and continued to play with his phone, because if he'd looked up and seen the death stare Nicole was shooting him he'd have pressed charges for attempted murder. 

_ How can she be with this ass hole,  _ Nicole thought miserably. 

It was then that Waverly appeared, not from the BBD office but the interrogation room. She looked upset and on edge. Nicole chewed her lip, fighting the urge to check whether she was OK. With Champ stood right there it seemed like it wouldn't be her place to ask what was wrong. Champ looked up at his girlfriend’s approach and rolled his eyes. 

“Ugh,  _ finally.”  _ Champ stowed his phone in his pocket. He frowned at Waverly’s empty hands. “Babe, grab your stuff, we’re late.”

Waverly folded her arms around herself, looking vulnerable in a way that Nicole hadn't witnessed before. It was a painful contrast to the smiley, laughing girl she had first met in Shorty’s.

“Listen Champ I'm sorry I'm just not feeling up to games and movie night, you go without me. I think Gus needs a hand at Shorty’s tonight anyhow.” 

Champ did at least drop his irritable pout. “You sure?” 

Waverly nodded, pushing a smile onto her face that didn't seem entirely genuine. 

“Alright babe, text me tomorrow, ‘kay?” he gave her a kiss on the forehead with the equivalent force of a light punch and strode away out of the station, fishing his phone out to play with once again. 

Waverly was left standing alone by the front desk, her face still a picture of distress. Nicole felt a sharp lump in her throat at the sight of her. Had she really gotten to the point of feeling physical pain at the thought of Waverly’s suffering? She rallied her courage and made to rise out of her seat to go find out what was wrong when everyone's attention was drawn to a blonde woman marching into the precinct, her heels echoing down the hall almost as loudly as her voice. 

“Bobo Del Ray, where is he?” she demanded, her stern eyes locking with the first officer she saw - Nicole was grateful that it was Phelps and not her that the woman honed in on. 

The next five minutes passed in a whirlwind, Nedley emerging from his office to debate with the woman who said she was Bobo Del Ray's lawyer, there to argue about the unlawful arrest of her client. Nicole was aware of Bobo Del Ray - he was some sort of low life king of the trailer park across town - but she'd never seen him in person and had somehow been totally unaware that he'd been brought into the building. Waverly disappeared amidst the chaos, much to Nicole's disappointment. It became quickly apparent that Bobo had been arrested by the BBD, and Nicole made a mental note to add that to her list of questions to figure out answers to. Had he been in the interrogation room? Had the brunette been in there talking to him? 

Bobo was released shortly after, Nicole catching a glimpse of the alarming and dangerous looking man as he exited the building with the blonde lawyer. Wynonna then left, followed soon after by a speedy Waverly who, once again, didn't spare a glance in Nicole's direction as she went. 

That had been hours ago and Nicole was still trying to shift the uncomfortable feeling of a heavy, tight knot in her stomach. She had thought at first that it was because of her unease at the questions hanging over Black Badge and what they were doing in Purgatory. Then she felt like maybe it had more to do with the bad feeling she had that murders were being covered up. And then there was Waverly. 

Nicole smothered her face with her own hands, digging at her own cheeks in frustration as she tried to organise the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions spinning around in her mind.

_ Dammit Haught you’re a mess _ .  _ You need to talk to someone, stat. _

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and thumbed through the contacts until she reached Justine - her academy roommate. It had been a few months since she’d dropped her a line, but she was a reliable friend and she’d know what to say. She only glanced briefly at the time before she tapped out a message anyway. Justine would be awake. It was Friday night, so she’d either be out partying or she’d be out crashing the party with flashing blue lights.

‘ _ Hey J, long time no speak. How’s tricks? _ ’

Nicole had barely put the phone down when she heard it buzz, the screen illuminating with Justine’s bubbly round face and a new message. 

‘ _ Sup homeslice! How's the small town life? _ ’

Nicole smiled and rolled her eyes. Justine had been happy for her when Nicole had announced she'd been given the job in Purgatory. It was a great opportunity, but her friend was still sad that she'd chosen to leave her and the city behind. Justine had always talked about them both taking the city by storm and working their way up the ranks together. And then she’d met her boyfriend Bobby and bit by bit they started working more on their own individual careers. They both knew that they each had their own path to walk, but Justine teased Nicole for choosing the ‘small town’ life all the same. 

‘ _ Yeah, it’s good _ ,’ Nicole typed. She paused, unsure of what else to say. She needed someone to talk to about… well, everything, but it suddenly seemed so unfair to dive right into a venting session having not spoken to her in so long.

Nicole deliberated on it for a few more minutes. Evidently this was too long for Justine to wait and Nicole’s phone lit up once again, this time with a video call. She smirked and accepted the call.

Justine’s face filled the screen. It looked like she was at home for once. 

“I was just texting you back you know.”

“Pshh, please,” Justine waved a dismissive hand, even though Nicole couldn’t actually see it. “You can’t fool  _ me _ Haught. You need to talk about something and you were taking ages figuring out how to ask for help. That’s  _ textbook Nicole. _ What’s up?”

Nicole chewed thoughtfully on the inside of her lip. Justine was great for this kind of thing; she always seemed able to call Nicole out on her feelings, even if she wasn’t sure of them herself. The problem with that was that when Justine demanded an answer she so often had no idea where to begin.

“It’s… things have been…” Nicole stopped and started, trying to pinpoint what she even needed to talk about.

“Let's start with an easier question,” Justine offered. “How's the job going?”

“The job is good,” Nicole confirmed. “It's a nice place and I feel like I have a chance to actually make a difference here, which is nice. Sheriff has been pretty supportive…”  _ Until recently,  _ she thought. 

“Any asshole cops giving you trouble?”

Nicole thought of Dolls. “One, but I'm working on him. He's a Deputy Marshal. Leads a sort of… ‘covert agency’ that took over part of the precinct.”

“That actually sounds pretty interesting. Why are they in your little corner of nowhere?”

“Wish I knew,” Nicole sighed irritably.

Justine giggled evilly. “That must just be  _ eating you up _ not knowing Haught.”

Nicole rolled her eyes. This was an occasion where having someone know her that well was less helpful and more annoying.

“So asshole feds aside, the job is ok? Making friends?”

Nicole faltered a little. “People are mostly pretty friendly. I mean, I’ve met most of the town by now--”

“All twelve of them you mean?”

“Yeah I get it, I live in a small town.”

“Can’t believe you moved out there. You must be crazy.”

“You’re the second person to call me that today.”

“Well  _ I’m _ the only one who gets to call you crazy. Send ‘em my way and I’ll set them straight.”

“It’s ok, she’s actually one of the nice ones. I think.” Nicole still hadn’t figured out if she was getting along with Gus. The older woman always looked at her like she was sizing Nicole up.

Justine raised a judgemental eyebrow. “So in that backwater town the definition of ‘nice’ is calling people crazy?”

“Well  _ you  _ just did.”

“That’s totally different. I’m allowed. So have you met any  _ actually  _ nice people yet?”

_ Waverly is nice _ , Nicole thought dreamily. She felt the tips of her cheeks start to burn and remembered that this was a video call. She tried to stop her thoughts creeping onto her face but wasn’t fast enough.

“Oh. My. God.” Justine visibly leant forward, making herself comfier in her chair, her expression gleeful. “Why the hell didn’t you open with this?  _ You met someone _ .”

Nicole’s whole face turned crimson as she fumbled to get some words out of her mouth. “Well, it’s not exactly like that-”

“But you have though, right? You have a ‘someone’ that you met?”

Nicole sighed. That was the crux of it really wasn’t it.  _ She _ didn’t have a ‘someone’. The ‘someone’ was with someone else. 

To her credit, Justine seemed to realise that she’d struck the nerve at the centre of the issue. She pulled an apologetic face.

Another voice could be heard from Justine’s end of the call. “Who’re you talkin’ to babe?” Nicole recognised it as Bobby, who then appeared on screen over Justine’s shoulder. “Oh, hey Nic!”

“Hey Bobby, how’s it going?”

“It’s going good, yeah-” Justine cut him off impatiently.

“Not now Bobby, Haught’s getting her heart broken.”   
  
Nicole rolled her eyes. “I am  _ not _ getting my heart broken, it’s just...” She trailed off.

“What, she’s not into you? Unavailable?  _ Straight _ ?” 

Nicole cringed. “All of the above,” she admitted.

Justine and Bobby sighed in unison. “Sorry Nic,” said Bobby.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Nicole said, attempting to dismiss their concern. “It’ll pass. I want it to pass. I want us to be friends.”

“I bet you do.”

“I’m  _ serious _ .”

“Ok fine, let’s pretend I believe you. If it’s no big deal then why did you need to talk about it so badly?”

Nicole hesitated before answering. “I guess… I just don’t have someone here yet who I know well enough to talk to about stuff. I guess I just wanted to talk out loud, so things don’t just get lost in my head. So I know I’m not crazy.”

“Haught,” Justine said flatly. “It’s already been established: you  _ are _ crazy.”

Nicole thought about it. Was she crazy? She thought of Purgatory and it's remarkably high volume of deaths and disappearances. She thought of the closed door to Black Badge, beyond which she’d heard those screams and gunshots. She thought of the cut-throat murders, with no evidence that the murderer had been in the room other than a fingerprint with no match. She thought of the uncharacteristically stern way that Nedley told her to let it go when she asked for answers about these strange goings on. 

And she thought about how Waverly seemed to know more than she was letting on about the BBD. And once she’d started thinking about Waverly she couldn’t stop thinking about Waverly. Waverly, who she just wanted to get to know, who she just wanted to be near to even though it hurt every time Champ walked in. Who she just wanted to be important to, even if she didn’t really know why.

Yeah. She was definitely crazy. But for now at least it felt like she kinda wanted to be. She didn’t even notice the faint smile that started to grace her lips as she stared off into space.

“See Bobby, she’s just smiling like a goon now. Total loon.”

“Don’t worry Nic,  _ I _ know you’re not,” Bobby offered with a supportive wink. 

“Ah what do you know,” Justine said, dismissing her her boyfriend with a smirk. “Listen Haught, you know I’m always here for you, right? You don’t have to do your brooding, internal downward spiral thing.”

“I know.”

“And maybe try not crushing on chicks who are totally unavailable. Just a thought.”

Nicole rolled her eyes.

“I mean it Haught. Go out, have fun, get laid,  _ whatever _ . Just get this girl out of your head. You’ll feel better about it all, I promise.”

“Thanks J,” Nicole nodded, giving her friend a warm smile. “And thanks for calling.”

“Big love, Haught. Now get some sleep. You look like shit.” Nicole laughed as Justine shot her one more smirk and ended the call. 

She slid back in her seat with a yawn, putting her feet up on the coffee table. The long day suddenly felt like it was catching up with her. Calamity Jane hopped up onto the sofa and curled into a ball at her side, Nicole giving her the usual scratch behind the ears. She knew she should go upstairs to bed, but she felt unexpectedly comfy just now, like the conversation and saying things out loud had somewhat lifted a weight off her shoulders. Like things felt a little clearer.

Her eyes closed and she drifted off into an easy slumber, dreaming of Waverly Earp’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a point I'd like to make real quick before you go. I've read a bunch of WayHaught fics that paint Champ as some unfaithful, abusive douchecanoe and while I do think that he's a total asshat who didn't deserve the time of day from Waverly, I can't help feeling like over-dramatising what a monster he is might be detrimental to Waverly's character. He doesn't have to be cheating or beating on her to not be right for her, or to be an asshole. I know there was that thing with Wynonna in 1x01 but other than that overall there's no canon information that makes out he's anything other than just an idiotic, selfish, childish dickhead. 
> 
> I guess the point I want to make is, that I don't think peeps need to go overboard on the idea that someone has to be unfaithful or violent in order for them to be an unsuitable partner. There are a million ways in which someone can be wrong for a person, and abuse isn't always that obvious either. Things aren't black and white but it's easy to fall into a routine of being with someone who you don't really want to be with and it's not always easy to see if you're being treated badly. Sometimes you're not being treated badly. This is the point: not wanting to be with someone is a good enough reason not to be with them on its own. You don't need to justify a breakup with anything else, and I feel like the show expressed that point pretty well with the way Waverly ultimately ditched him. So I've written Champ as I see him - a real person who is not all that smart maybe, but who cares for Waverly as best he can (which is, admittedly, not very well). I just felt like this point was important to highlight. Thanks for reading guys, and I'll see you in the next chapter.


	8. How About That Coffee?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're onto 1x07 now guys but earlier in the day than the main events of the episode. I've always felt like, based on the things said in the show, Waverly and Nicole must have had other meet ups and conversations, especially as Nicole knew there was a party going on that she wasn't invited to. Plus, there just hasn't been enough Waverly+Nicole time yet, so indulge me. 
> 
> This chapter is all about fun but awkward conversations with a crush. Enjoy.

The trunk of Nicole's cruiser jarred and rattled as she attempted to close it. Further inspection revealed that a can of Cat food was the obstruction preventing the latch from sliding into place. Nicole sighed and looked at the bursting bags of groceries in front of her critically. She shuffled a few things around but it still didn't fit.

_ How do I have so much shopping when I live alone? _

It was usually just a case of spotting extra things on the shelves that she’d forgotten she needed more of, or spotting things that she probably didn’t  _ need _ but that she stocked up on anyway. Either way she always came out of the supermarket laden with more shopping than was reasonable for a single person.

She shoved and pushed at the brown paper bags until something inside went ‘pop’ and the top layer deflated a little. She rolled her eyes, making a mental note that she'd be having potato chips for lunch, and rapidly brought the lid of the boot down, withdrawing her hand at the last moment to keep the groceries in place. The latch clicked shut. She smiled and gave the car a satisfied nod.

It had been an erranding-running morning. Nicole liked running errands. There was something incredibly satisfying about starting the day with a full list of to-do’s and working her way through until everything was checked off. That morning's errands had included picking up flea drops for Calamity Jane at the vet, dropping by the post office to send a parcel to her great aunt, returning a couple of movies to the DVD rental place and stocking up on groceries and cat food. Added to this was the morning jog she started the day with, so she was starting to feel the familiar weight of heavy eyelids as her energy started to ebb.

She looked at her watch. Four hours until her shift started. That was just enough time to head home and cram in a cat nap before work.

_ Or I could cram in about three coffees and catch up on my research,  _ she thought.

She was still conducting her own secret investigation into the cut throat murders in town, but her research time had been severely limited just recently. Nedley had been keeping her extra busy with patrols, paperwork and countless errands. These weren't the fun kinds of errands. These were the errands like aimlessly patrolling the local graveyard to disperse the teens smoking pot, or re cataloguing old juvie records, or cleaning out the staff fridge. And it didn't seem like anyone else was getting such a heavy to do list as her. It was like Nedley was deliberately trying to keep her busy. Perhaps until she'd forgotten about the cut throat murders. This was, in fact, Nicole's theory as to his motivations. For whatever reason he was trying to distract her until she let it go.

She was determined not to let that happen, even if it meant her research started to creep into non-working hours.

She looked up the street to where she could see the sign for Shorty’s and hesitated. In an attempt to heed at least part of Justine’s advice she had been trying to avoid Shorty’s of late so as to minimise the chances of running into a certain Earp. She kept telling herself that putting some distance between herself and Waverly would start making her feel better soon enough, but she had yet see any positive results. All that happened so far was that she had developed an entirely new ache in her chest, and had started a new round of beating herself up over missing someone she barely even spoke to. It could be that these were necessary stages along the road of getting over a crush, but if there was a light at the end of the tunnel she couldn’t see it yet.

She thought briefly about the coffee at the diner a few doors further down and pulled a face. It always tasted like someone had  _ done something  _ in it and left a burnt stain inside the cup it was served in, which always made Nicole wonder what it was doing to people's insides when they drank it. She thought of the cappuccino at Shorty’s with its deep, rich taste and perfect volume of foam. Was it worth the risk of setting back her progress in trying to forget about Waverly?

_ Pfft. What progress,  _ she thought gloomily.

She locked her car and started down the street to the bar.

_ It's just a cappuccino to go. Two minutes, in and out. Doesn't even matter if Waverly is working today I have to get going anyhow. _

She still paused and took an extra deep breath before she walked in.

Her eyes locked in on Waverly the second she crossed the threshold.

_ Damn _ .

The brunette was gliding across the room like she was skating on ice, tray of drinks in hand and one of the bar towels tucked into the high waist of her shorts. She was full of smiles and laughter, bantering with the lads around the pool table and serving drinks effortlessly.

It had been a while since Nicole had seen Waverly in this kind of setting, away from the darkness of murder and the constrained shadow of the BBD. The brief encounters she’d had with her in the precinct hallways had been fraught with the feeling that  _ everything _ was classified, but that there was another conversation sitting just beneath the surface, waiting to be had. A  _ real _ conversation.

This, here in the bar, was a performance. It was a dance she knew well and she didn’t miss a step, grabbing glasses and pulling pints, fun and bubbly and carefree to everyone except those that were really looking.

And Nicole was really looking. So much so in fact that she almost startled herself at the realisation that she was standing in the doorway like a gormless idiot. Her heart caught up with her and started to beat heavily in her chest. Was it dizzy in here or was that just her?

This was a mistake. She gripped the edge of the door to steady herself, her fingernails sinking into the wood. She’d only been stood there for a moment - maybe she’d be able to slip back out without anyone noticing the crazy ginger cop lingering in the doorway. And then Waverly looked over.

Too late.

Nicole propelled herself forwards and down the steps towards the bar, trying as best she could to hide her awkward entrance. The thought of it quickly faded from her mind as Waverly greeted her with a smile that lit up the whole room. Nicole couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hey, how’s Purgatory’s finest?” Perhaps it was just because she hadn’t seen her in a while, but to Nicole, Waverly’s voice sounded like music. The young Earp continued. “Almost didn’t recognise you in your ‘ _ civilian clothes _ ’.” She chuckled a little breathlessly as she air-quoted the last part.

_ God damn she’s adorable _ . Nicole was totally disarmed. She felt like a deer in the headlights, and struggled to form any kind of coherent thing to say. What was wrong with her? She was behaving like she had done the day they met, her brain being wiped clean each time Waverly said something. It hadn’t been like this at the precinct. Nicole had been able to take control and hadn’t felt like a total gibbering idiot at all. Was it because she was out of uniform? She absent-mindedly reached to tuck her thumbs behind the buckle of her utility belt and then she remembered she wasn’t wearing it. Because that was part of her uniform. That she wasn’t wearing. Shit.

_ Coffee _ . _ You’re here for coffee. _

It had already been a slightly longer than comfortable pause since Waverly’s greeting and Nicole still hadn’t said anything. With moments to spare before she just gave up and ran from the building, her brain caught up.

“Oh, sorry I’m in a world of my own today! It’s been a busy morning, my head’s just…” She waved her hand around to mimic her mental chaos. It wasn’t a total lie. “I actually came to grab a coffee. Caffeine injection and all that.”

Waverly nodded knowingly. “Tell me about it. I’ve only made it through the day so far with the help of four espressos. I’m so hyped up on java I’m practically vibrating.”

The last word tumbled out of Waverly’s mouth as if she’d decided against it a split second too late. Nicole couldn’t stop her eyebrows from lifting slightly. She quickly dipped her head as the pair laughed.

“Well, I uh, would love a cappuccino to go, please,” Nicole said in as normal a voice as she could manage. “The coffees here are the best around town as far as I can say.”

Waverly frowned disbelievingly. “Really? The coffee machine isn’t that great, I’d have thought you’d prefer the diner or-”

Nicole shuddered. “Uh,  _ no _ . I’m still not convinced I walked away entirely sober after the last one I had there.”

Nicole’s heart beat against her ribcage when she saw she’d made Waverly laugh again.

“Well, some people like it that way,” the brunette said with a shrug. “Clearly there’s no accounting for taste.”

“Clearly.”

There was a pause and their eyes locked again. Nicole could feel her pulse rise on her neck, sure that it was visible from space and for a moment she felt like she could see through the performance of ‘Waverly Earp, town sweetheart’. For just a moment it felt like the closed door had cracked open. Waverly opened her mouth and then hesitated. When she then did speak it seemed like the sentence that came out wasn’t the one she’d originally planned to say, and the door was closed shut once again.

“Well listen, if I recall I still owe you a coffee, so this one’s on me.”

“Oh, hey you don’t have to-”

“No, I insist. Waverly Earp is a woman of her word and always settles her debts,” she chirped.

Nicole tried to ignore the minor sinking feeling. Was that what it was? A debt? That wasn’t quite what she’d had in mind when she first suggested that Waverly buy her a coffee.

Her disappointment was fleeting however - Waverly wasn’t done.

“And hey, if you’re not doing anything right now I’m actually about to go on break if you wanna hang for ten minutes?”

Nicole’s brain struggled to catch up again. Waverly was asking to have coffee with her. She thought momentarily of the groceries in the trunk of her car, and the frozen popsicles that were probably already on their way to being puddles.

“Sure, that’d be fun,” she replied, aiming for as casual a tone as she could muster.

Waverly flashed her another dazzling smile and twirled around to the coffee machine, deftly preparing the drinks while calling out to the far side of the room.

“Gus, I’m on break!”

It was then that Nicole noticed Waverly’s aunt, sat a few tables away, pouring over some paperwork. She looked up as her niece called and spotted the young deputy. Nicole felt suddenly like her throat was a little dry. She smiled and gave Gus a friendly wave, which was returned with narrowed, calculating eyes and the very slightest of nods.

She didn’t get much longer to ponder what the older woman might have been thinking as Waverly slid back into her line of vision handing her the cappuccino. She’d put it in a ceramic cup with a saucer, and had poured a cute leaf pattern into the foam. Nicole smiled. Waverly had made a coffee for herself too and she took a sip with a sigh of relief. Clearly the break was well-needed.

“You wanna sit down?” she asked Nicole, nodding towards the nearest table.

“Sure.” Nicole lifted the cup and nearly swore out loud as she heard it rattle with her shaking hands. She took a deep breath and tried to get the move over with quickly, dropping down onto the chair with a little jolt that caused a dribble of coffee to spill down the side of her cup.

She mentally cursed.  _ Smooth, idiot. What the hell is the matter with you?  _ Waverly sat down opposite, cradling her own coffee with both hands just below her chin. Nicole tried to relax. She wanted to be friends with Waverly. This was what friends did.

“Long shift today then?” Nicole asked, gesturing to Waverly’s coffee.

Waverly sighed wearily, still smiling. “Yeah, it’s been a long week really. I’ve got a few days off after this though so just a few more hours and I’m free as a bird for the weekend.” 

“Sounds nice. No such reprieve for Sheriff’s Deputies unfortunately. You’ll have to chill out for the both of us.”

“Nedley does like to keep his officers on their toes, doesn’t he?”

“Ah, he’s not so bad,” Nicole said generously, thinking of the hours she’d spent the day before scrubbing the grime off the refrigerator door in the breakroom. “And I like my job here so it’s ok.”

“Well I’m glad you do. It would have been a pretty poor show if we Purgatorians hadn’t made you feel welcome,” Waverly smiled sweetly, evidently filled with town pride. Then she looked uncertain. “I mean, I  _ hope _ you feel welcome. You certainly are. Welcome, that is. I mean, I hope you’re getting settled. That everyone’s been welcoming.”

Nicole chewed the inside of her cheek to contain the full force grin that Waverly’s nervous rambling was inspiring. Wait, nervous? Why would she be nervous? Could she be nervous about talking to Nicole?

_ Stop it Haught, wishful thinking like that is only gonna lead to more heartache later. _

She forced herself to make small talk. “Yeah I’m getting pretty settled in. Everyone’s super friendly for the most part.”

“The most part?”

“Well, some people don’t like getting tickets.” Nicole thought of her first meeting with Champ.

_ And some people are just jackasses. _ Then she thought of Dolls.  _ And some people are jackasses and more. _ Then she thought of Wynonna. Actually, despite what everyone in town said, the older Earp didn’t seem so bad. She was funny at least.

“Ah well, I can’t help you there,” Waverly smirked, leaning back in her chair and seeming to relax a little more. “Giving people tickets is no way to make friends.”

“Well then, here’s hoping I never catch you double parked,” Nicole raised her cup like she was making a toast.

“I’ll drink to that,” Waverly agreed, chinking her cup against Nicole’s. “I  _ so  _ cannot afford any tickets right now. I just spent a small fortune on decorative pillows.”

“I see. Decorating at home?”

“Yeah, trying to make the Homestead a little homier for the engagement party.”

Nicole’s stomach bottomed out and the world felt like it ground to a halt. She went from naught to nauseous in a split second and gripped her cup so tight that she thought it might break.

_ Engagement party _ ?

She felt her breath catch in her throat and every ounce of concentration she had was diverted to keeping her expression calm. Was Waverly… No. No surely not. Champ was a buffoon. He was a child, who couldn’t go five minutes without a cell phone to entertain him. He couldn’t even commit to the speed limit, let alone a person. He wasn’t the kind of guy that would willingly tie himself down, was he?

Nicole’s eyes made a quick scan over Waverly’s fingers. No ring on that particular finger. Not that that meant anything necessarily. Plenty of people got engaged without a ring. It would be just like Champ to propose without the actual jewellery too. To propose in the laziest way possible. Or maybe there was a ring and Waverly had just taken it off for work. Was it too big and bulky to leave on behind the bar? Nicole imagined a giant, obnoxious thing, designed to broadcast to the world that Waverly was taken. A token of ownership.

Nicole felt sick. Waverly was saying something about the department store having run out of a complete set of one particular style of pillow so she’d had to mix and match, but Nicole could barely hear her over the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears. Her eyes were wide and unblinking and she started to feel a burn under her eyelids, realising in horror that tears were trying to force their way out.

_ Holy shit this is so much more than a little crush. And I’m too late. _

“So you take party planning pretty seriously then, huh?” Nicole managed, her voice somewhat strangled by the lump in her throat.

“Oh for sure,” Waverly nodded solemnly. “I aim to be the perfect host! Plus, none of my friends have actually been to visit the Homestead before so I wanna make sure everything is perfect for Steph.”

A glimmer of hope. Nicole didn’t dare breathe.

“Steph?”

“Stephanie Jones,” Waverly explained. “One of my fellow Purg-High survivors. We haven’t hung out in a while so when her boyfriend finally popped the question I thought what better way to catch up than to throw her a celebratory bash!”

Nicole couldn’t even hide the relieved sigh that escaped her lips. Her whole body went slack and she realised she’d been tensing every muscle that she had. Waverly’s eyes narrowed as Nicole deflated in her seat.

“Sounds like you’re a good friend,” Nicole said a little too enthusiastically, aiming to distract from her obviously strange behaviour. “So when’s the big do?”

“Tonight,” Waverly replied. “Which is why I’m knocking back the coffees. I’m gonna need that boost!” She punched a fist into the air and Nicole found herself smiling again.

_ She’s so goddamn adorable. I’m doomed. _

All too soon it seemed, Waverly was glancing at the time on her watch and tipping back the last of her coffee.

“Oh shoot, I’m sorry, I’ve gotta get back to work,” she put the cup down and looked up at Nicole, the nervous, uncertain look in her eyes returning. “This was… we should do it again some time.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Nicole nodded, finishing her drink too. What was this expression on Waverly’s face? It was the same as the one she’d had the day they’d met, that intense thoughtful gaze she’d laid on Nicole just as she’d been leaving. “And uh, you’re sure I don’t owe you anything for the coffee?”

Waverly dismissed the question with a wave as she rose out of her seat, collecting both cups as she went. “No silly, then I’d still owe you one.”

_ ‘Maybe I want you to’ _ , was on the tip of Nicole’s tongue, but she managed to bite it back before the words escaped.

Nicole fake-looked at her own watch and got to her feet. “I uh, I should probably get moving too. Got work in a few hours. Late shift, so… the coffee was great, thank you.”

“Any time,” Waverly murmured, her gaze still lingering on Nicole as she stepped back slowly towards the bar.

Nicole smiled again and made to head out. “I’ll see you around, Waverly.”

“Bye Nicole.”

Another smile crept out as Waverly used her name. Had she said it before? Nicole had never really thought about how her name sounded when spoken aloud, but on Waverly’s lips it sounded magical.

And now she was thinking about Waverly’s lips. In the split second before she turned away her eyes betrayed her and darted down to the lips in question, and she almost choked as she noticed that one of them was pinched very slightly between Waverly’s teeth.

She felt her face start to burn rapidly and decided it was time to leave. With one final wave she skipped up the steps and out the door. The cool air outside was… refreshing. Somehow she didn't think she'd need any more coffee for the evening to stay awake. 


	9. Mean Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I've been stuck on this chapter for weeks, trying to get the pacing and dialogue right and finding the time to write it. Between some rewriting, major restructuring and adding an extra chapter to the plan, I've finally got there. Thanks so much to anyone who has been waiting for hanging in there.
> 
> So we're still on 1x07 and I'm planning to steam straight on with the next chapter after this, so expect another update SOON.

Nicole’s frozen popsicles had become entirely liquid by the time she got them home with the rest of her groceries. A worthwhile sacrifice for ten minutes with Waverly, in her opinion.

But it did mean she’d had to use up some of her remaining time before work to clear up the trunk of her car, which was now strawberry and tropical fruit flavoured. With not much time left before she was due at work, Nicole opted to grab food at the diner before her shift started rather than trying to rapidly cook something at home.

She sat at a table on her own, tucking into the diner’s signature bacon fries. She’d only been there a few times before, but the food wasn’t too bad, as diner food went. It had improved a lot recently too since it was under new ownership and the menu had been updated. Nicole didn’t know the previous owners, the Tates, but nobody in town seemed too upset at the loss of the old, extra-greasy menu. She’d asked Officer Tate at the precinct if they were relatives of his, but if they were then it was too many generations back to know much about it. Either way he didn’t know them. Turned out not too many people in town really knew them as anything other than the family that ran the diner. Apparently the family had run the place for as long as anyone could remember, and then had moved out of town very recently. Very suddenly. Very unexpectedly and without any goodbyes to other townsfolk.

Nicole froze, staring unseeingly ahead.

_Goddamnit Haught, you’re an idiot._

How had she missed that? A family that has run a town business for generations just ups and leaves without a word? She rolled her eyes at herself and made a mental note to add it to her ‘weird shit’ list of stuff to look into. Yet another piece to figure out in the ever-increasing Purgatory puzzle.

Her self-scolding was interrupted by the arrival of a trio of young women with big hair, short skirts and loud voices. They were giggling and chatting about some shopping trip they had been on in the city, apparently untroubled by the dining experience of anyone else in the place. They descended on the relative peace like a vapid force of nature and came to rest in the the table behind Nicole’s back.

She rolled her eyes again. Seriously? The whole damn diner of tables and they chose the one right next to her?

“-so how long do we have?” one of them asked scathingly. “I wanna get some shots in before you head over to the murder house.”

Nicole sat bolt upright.

“Rach don’t call it that. There’s a cop like, _right there,_ ” a second voice reprimanded. “She’ll think you’re a criminal or something.”

Nicole actually heard one of them turn fully around in her seat to check Nicole’s uniform. This was followed by silly girlish giggling. She rolled her eyes yet again.

“Well  what else do you call it Steph?” said Rach. “And what do you call the freakshow that would want to live there? I can’t believe you’re actually gonna go.”

“Ugh, what was I supposed to do,” Steph replied. “It’s not like she doesn’t have like, a whole _bunch_ of weirdness to make up for. And who am I to say no to a party?”

Nicole had frozen once again, a french fry in her hand, halfway towards her open mouth. If this woman was Steph then did that mean they were talking about Waverly?

“Rather you than me,” said the third voice. “Who else is even going?”

“I don’t even know,” said Steph. “I think she invited like, _every_ girl in town.”

“Desperate much.”

“Well whatever, right? As long as there’s booze and music we’ll find a way to have a good time. And maybe it means Waves is officially done being weird and is gonna remember her friends once in a while.”

Nicole had absent-mindedly crushed the fry in her hand. So these were Waverly’s supposed ‘friends’. Nicole’s mind conjured up an image of a teenage Waverly at a shopping mall with these bitchy women, buying clothes and gossiping about other girls behind their back. Something about it didn’t fit. _Waverly_ didn’t fit. Waverly was the nicest, sweetest person Nicole had ever had the fortune to meet. Why would she go to the trouble of throwing a party for these people? Did she know that this was how they spoke about her behind her back?

She tried to ignore the disappointed thought that if Waverly _had_ invited every girl in town, she’d missed at least one.

“Yeah I don’t know what malfunction she’s been having lately, but it’s like she’s been _trying_ to undo all her progress.”

“You’ll have to give us the skinny on whether she’s planning on staying in the murder-house or not.”

“Rach!”

“Ugh, Sonja take a chill pill already it’s just an expression.”

 _No it’s not_ , Nicole thought with an eye-roll. There was a pause.

“Fine, the _‘Earp’_ house then. I want a full report on why she and Wynonna are suddenly like, BFF’s again.”

“Ooh yeah and find out if she’s planning on getting back together with Champ. I don’t know what the _hell_ she was thinking, letting that boy go.”

Nicole’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart beat little harder in her chest and the ghost of a smile started to grace her lips.

Waverly had broken up with Champ.

When had this happened? Surely longer ago than a few hours, which meant that when they’d had that coffee earlier Waverly had been…. Single. Waverly was single. Waverly was single and she’d invited Nicole to join her for coffee. And she’d smiled at her and she’d bitten her lip. And she was _single_.

 _Hold up Haught, single doesn’t mean interested_ , she reminded herself. Just because Waverly had broken up with Champ didn’t mean she was suddenly batting for a different team. Obviously she could well have been batting for a different team all along, but that still didn’t mean she would think of Nicole… _that way_.

She let out a deep breath and wiped the mushy potato from her hands as the conversation behind her continued.

“Oh my god yes, I don’t know what she was thinking. That girl needs a reality check fast. She’d better take him back before someone else snatches him up.”

“Well you tell her to take her time, cus’ I for one plan to do a little snatching myself.”

There was a chorus of giggles at this and Nicole found herself clenching her fist again.

“You’re such a bitch, I love it.”

“Hey I’m just bein’ practical here. If Waverly doesn’t realise what a freakin’ gold mine she’d struck then it sucks to be her. I sure as hell ain’t missing my chance for a little Champ action.”

“Honestly I don’t know why he stuck with her so long. She never deserved him. He was like… _really_ good to her.”

Nicole fought the urge to turn around and tell them point blank how idiotic they all were. Waverly didn’t deserve Champ? How could they have it so clearly backwards? Champ was an idiot. Waverly deserved a million times better and Nicole felt a weight in her chest lifted at the thought that Waverly now stood a chance of finding someone actually worthy of her. Someone who put her first. Someone who treated her like she was the sun, moon and stars. Someone like…

Nicole swallowed hard. It wasn’t her place to decide what or who Waverly deserved. It was up to Waverly herself to choose what she wanted, but Nicole felt a warm fuzzy feeling at the thought that Waverly might just be starting to figure out exactly what that was. In spite of the searing pain that came with the knowledge that Nicole was unlikely to be the person Waverly ultimately chose, she was still over the moon at the prospect of Waverly being happy.

She permitted herself a mental pat on the back. Wishing genuine happiness for your someone even if it means you don’t get what _you_ want… that’s what friends do, right?

The giggling bitch brigade behind her seemed to finally have moved onto a different topic, turning their attentions to the menu and whether or not they wanted cheesy fries or not. Nicole took this opportunity to extract herself from the place, before these airheads said anything else that might make her want to smack one of them square in the face. She left the money for dinner beside her plate, grabbed her stetson and headed for the door. As she left she caught a few final hushed whispers from the irritating trio.

“Wait, do you think the butch cop knows her? She does hang out at the sheriff’s department like, _all_ the time now.”

“Nah, officer newbie’s always on her own. I don’t think she has like, a single friend in town yet. Who’s she gonna tell?”

* * *

 

Two murders. Roughly same MO. One young woman, one middle aged man. One murdered in their own home, one in the restroom at a bar. Both had their throats cut and neither seemed to have fought back. No trace evidence of the killer at either scene and nothing to connect the two victims.

Nicole massaged her temples wearily, resisting the temptation to take her ‘secret case file’ out of her desk drawer and go over it all again. She already had the details etched fairly well into her memory, but she wanted to keep rereading it all the same. Like it would reveal something new after fifty read throughs. But she couldn't do that right now. _Now_ , she was sat at her desk, supposedly finishing a writeup of a shoplifting reported at a local liquor store. Her mind was on other things. Several other things, in fact.

Subjects like Waverly Earp and the secret case file and the BBD were all fighting for poll position in her head, and Nicole hadn’t had nearly enough coffee to process it all. As energised and enthused as she had felt after seeing Waverly that afternoon, the overheard conversation in the diner had given her so many new things to think about that she didn’t quite know where to begin. Waverly had broken up with Champ, but was she going to take him back? Why had she broken up with him in the first place? What did it mean that she had, and what did it mean that she was throwing a party for such blatantly awful friends? If those were the kind of people she wanted to be around, then was there any place in her social circle for Nicole?

Nicole took a deep breath. Nope. Too much to process for now. She was on duty and if she was going to be distracted from the report she was writing, it probably ought to be by something vaguely police-work-related at least. Her mind turned back to the cut throat murders. She knew she needed more information.

She'd had a chance to talk to Phelps before his shift ended a few hours ago, asking him friendly, casual questions about his home life, his wife… and then subtly dropping in a reference to the Megan Halshford murder scene. True to form, Phelps didn't question why she'd brought it up.

It occurred to her that _that_ may be the reason he'd been sent inside to collect evidence, while she had been stuck on pavement and punter duty. Phelps followed orders and didn't question much. He took things on face value and didn't lose a wink of sleep over unsolved mysteries. He was happy to let things go. In this town that seemed like a really good skill to have if you ever wanted a happy life. As far as Nicole was concerned, there were some things going on in this town that were weird, dangerous and downright _wrong_ , and she sure as hell wasn't going to let anything go. Nedley must have known that. He hired her after all.

But he also didn't seem too keen on her trying to dig for the truth either, like he was glad she was smart and intuitive, but only when it followed the pace _he_ wanted to set. There was something he was keeping under his hat for now, and she was obviously on the right track because he'd been putting barriers in her way whenever she tried to ask certain questions. Questions like, how were there so many coyote attacks when nobody in town ever seemed to see an actual coyote? Or why weren't people more freaked out that townsfolk went missing on a semi-regular basis? Or how the hell was a drunk, historically delinquent deputy toting an antique revolver the ideal candidate for the covert government agency that rocked up out of nowhere and took on all these weird cases?

Spurred on by the knowledge that she must be on the right track, Nicole had asked Phelps about the crime scene. The photos had long since been seized by the BBD, but Phelps described the scene pretty well. The victim was in her front room, throat cut, lots of blood, all the mirrors in the house were covered with cloths and scarves, and a message smeared on the full length mirror beside her. ‘ _Repent sinners_ ’. Cheery.

The circumstances confirmed that this and the murder at Shorty’s were definitely connected, but there still seemed to be no link between the two victims. Phelps had happily gone about the rest of his day without further concern, but Nicole had spiralled into an afternoon of theorising and adding all-new questions to her ever growing list. The only things each murder had in common was the way in which they died, and the message on the mirrors. Oh, and that fact that there was no evidence of a killer in the room. They clearly didn't commit suicide because there was no murder weapon either. Unless the killer escaped through the mirror into _Wonderland_.

That particular passing thought had lodged in Nicole's head and was a far bigger rabbit hole than she had anticipated when the idle idea passed through her mind. There had been a mirror at both scenes. The killer could have written the bloodied messages anywhere, but they chose a mirror each time. _And_ , Wynonna had apparently shot a mirror by accident back in the BBD offices the same day. Did Black Badge see a connection with the mirrors? Why kind of connection could there be? Why were the mirrors at Megan's house covered? Nicole didn't _really_ think there was a murderer in a mirror.

Did she? Was she seriously going _that_ crazy?

She decided to park the thought for a bit and actually concentrate on the shoplifting report. Apparently the store owner knew who had done it, because it was the same group of teenagers that always did it, but somehow never seemed to get caught. Nicole had pulled up previous reports to see if there was a pattern to the time of thefts in order to stake out and catch them in the act next time. In addition, she'd recommended the store invest in some CCTV cameras.

The minutes ticked by in a very normal, uneventful way for maybe twenty or so before Nicole's mind had wandered back to the cut throat murders. She looked up and around the Bull Pen. It was a quiet evening. Nedley was off for the night and Tate was due to go home soon too. She was on yet another graveyard shift. She ground her teeth and huffed a sigh. Nedley seemed to put her on a lot of those lately.

Tate was reading some sort of report on the far side of the room and so she deemed it safe to retrieve her file from the drawer. She read through everything again, systematically considering every note she'd taken since the morning outside Megan Halshford’s place. She sighed again, wistfully thinking about what other kinds of evidence or notes she'd have to work with if she'd been allowed inside. She doubted Phelps would have noticed anything significant in there if it had smacked him round the face. All she had to work with was the product of her minimal eavesdropping.

She frowned, looking at her notes from that day. Wynonna had said she couldn't stand Megan, so she obviously knew the victim. In a small town that was hardly surprising so Nicole hadn’t really thought about it at first, but a line was suddenly forming in her head, connecting one dot to another. Wynonna knew Megan. Wynonna had a past of delinquency and broke her probation, landing herself back in juvie. She must have had a probation officer. Jay Novak was a probation officer.

The Purgatory Sheriff’s Department database was slow by anyone’s standards, but it felt to Nicole like it had devolved to utter snail’s pace as she hurriedly tried to pull up the details surrounding Wynonna’s juvie record. Much of Wynonna’s record was sealed it turned out, but there were some notes in relation to a drugs possession charge that included Jay Novak’s name. Bingo. Nicole surreptitiously printed off a copy of the notes and added it to her file.

It couldn’t be a coincidence that Wynonna knew both of the victims and it couldn’t be a coincidence that she worked for Black Badge seeing as they were the ones who took on the case. The fact that the BBD took on the weird cases absolutely cemented the conclusion in Nicole’s mind that Wynonna was connected to the weird stuff going on in Purgatory. And this was just the weird stuff they they knew about.

Hell, this week alone had included the disappearance of a young woman, the possible serial murder of another, and the latest in a long-running series of reports that there were ghosts in the Pine Barrens. Possibly the weirdest thing about Purgatory by far though was that _nobody_ talked about how weird all of this was. Nobody acted like it was unusual or suspicious that, say, a well established family that ran the town diner would up and leave without warning. To Nicole it felt like a great big, town-sized elephant in the room and she was waiting any moment now for someone else to glance at it, catch her eye, and say, ‘ _I know, right?’_

But they didn't. It was like they didn't even see it. Only a select few people seemed to be aware that something wasn't quite right, and Nedley, Dolls and the Earp girls were among them.

She knew already that she'd get nothing out of Nedley or Dolls and talking to Waverly while she was still trying to get past her feelings was…. _difficult._ Maybe it was time to go directly to the source.

Maybe it was time to see just how much of the town rumours were true.

* * *

 

The rest of the department had gone home for the night. A light was still on in the Black Badge office, but that was par for the course. Nicole wouldn’t have been surprised at this stage to find out that Dolls was a vampire - it would explain the long nights and stone cold behaviour. She had finished her third cup of coffee within an hour and half. The lateness of the night was starting to sink in. It was the usual midnight wall; burden of the graveyard shift.

She’d eventually finished the shoplifting report and had been looking since at the case file for the murder victim brought in the day before. It was gruesome. She was the third young woman to have been found in this condition; carved up with some sort of blade. Nicole had barely contained a shudder when Nedley had first briefed her on it. The shudder was still just beneath the surface now.

The coroner's report was a mess. Aside from the atrocious handwriting, it was only half completed and the few bits that were legible were chaotic and nonsensical. Nicole was planning to follow up with the coroner about it and demand an explanation.

Yet another obstacle in the way of even the most basic crime solving. And this was from the people actually working for law enforcement. It was ridiculous. Between incompetence, ignorance and BBD cover ups it felt like Nicole was never going to get anywhere. She glanced down at the victim's photo again, and then cast it over her shoulder in a mixture of frustration and revulsion. It landed somewhere under the desk but she didn't check where. She'd pick it up later.

She took a deep breath and rubbed the back of her neck, her eyes dragging over the speeding fine paperwork on her desk, next in line for completion. She sighed. It was gonna be a long night.

There was a knock from the doorway to her right.

Nicole looked up to see Wynonna leaning against the doorframe, bottle of what looked like whiskey in hand.

“Saturday night,” she said. “I'm the town pariah with ten years of bad deeds and social suicides to make up for, what's your excuse?”

What was Nicole's excuse for being stuck on duty, alone on a Saturday night? The working theory was that she'd been asking too many questions and looking a little too closely at the weird shit connected to the woman stood in front of her now. That didn’t seem like the wisest answer. She went for something with fewer implications.

“Nedley.”

“Say no more. Bosses are the worst. ” Wynonna nodded knowingly. There was a pause. “Also, I'm scared mine might be dead,” the Earp added, unscrewing the cap from her bottle.

Nicole stared, looking for some signal that this was a joke - albeit in poor taste. Wynonna quickly scoffed the comment away, but there had been a fleeting expression of sincere concern on her features beforehand. “Oh, kidding.” She took a healthy-sized swig of whiskey.

Most of the times Nicole had seen Wynonna she'd been wearing a hard, ‘don't dick with me’ type expression, like the world of shit and that followed her around was just water off a duck's back. Like she didn't actually give a damn and everyone else could go to hell for all she cared. Like she knew what she was doing and what she wanted and she didn't need or want anyone else's bullshit along for the ride. Seeing her now she looked… lost. Lost and alone. Waverly danced a different dance for the public eye, one of friendliness and smiles and being whatever anyone else wanted her to be. Maybe she was starting to step to her own tune a little more, but her natural defence was to just be too lovely for anyone to have a problem with. It seemed that Wynonna had the opposite approach, throwing up the least approachable persona she could muster and making it clear she didn't want or need any friends. Or at least, that was the impression Nicole had seen.

Right now though it seemed like the facade had slipped a little. Like she could do with a friend.

“Are you sure you're OK?” Nicole asked as gently as she dared.

“Mm-hmm,” Wynonna murmured unconvincingly, clearing her throat and tipping back the bottle once again.

Nicole sighed inwardly. It looked like the Earp was in need of a lifeline. There we a tonne of possible reasons why. There was no sign of Dolls around and Waverly was obviously busy this evening. Nicole wondered if Wynonna had declined an invitation to the party of if she just hadn't been included from the start. Either way the precinct was host to its own pity party of two.

“At least I'm not the only one who wasn't invited to the party. Makes me feel better.”

Wynonna lowered the bottle, suspicious frown in place.

“What party?”

_Oops._

“Uhhh,” Nicole hesitated. Was the party a secret? Waverly hadn't said anything like that. Maybe Wynonna had forgotten or something? “Waverly’s party for her friend? The engagement party at the homestead?”

Wynonna scowled in silence for a moment, her eyes flickering back and forth ahead vacantly as she seemed to be trying to mentally calculate something. Her face crinkled into an expression of disgust.

“Ugh _no_ , must be the Devilettes,” she groaned, apparently having come to some realisation.

“Excuse me?”

“Just the worst club of people on earth,” Wynonna grumbled, planting herself heavily on the corner of Nicole’s desk and taking another gulp of whiskey.

Nicole’s mind raced. _Devilettes_? “Uh… satan worshippers?”

“Worse.” Wynonna looked grave. “Cheerleaders.”

Nicole laughed breathlessly and hoped her cheeks didn’t burn too red at the thought that if Waverly’s friends were cheerleaders, _she_ might have been one too. Fortunately Wynonna seemed not to notice Nicole’s momentary fluster.

“So Waves told you all about her rad party and then neglected to attach an invite? Harsh.” She looked at the bottle in her hand for a moment as if considering something, then held it out to Nicole. “Trust me though, you dodged a pom-pom-wielding bullet.”

Nicole looked at the bottle for a moment.

She was on duty and staying sober was one of those ‘goes without saying’ rules about police-work.

But she _had_ wanted the chance to speak to Wynonna and try to get her to open up about the unusual happenings in town. And Miss Cold-Shoulder herself was offering her an olive branch - well, _whiskey_ \- and who knew if that would ever happen again. She may never have another chance.

She accepted the bottle and took a drink. Wynonna nodded very slightly and Nicole wondered if that had been some kind of test. She handed the bottle back to Wynonna who took another swig and let out a satisfied ‘aahhh’.

“I’d unclip your bra and get comfy Red. It’s gonna be a long night.” She blinked and then squinted at Nicole. “What was your name again?”


	10. Girls Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to writing this chapter and I certainly hope I've done it justice.  
> Thanks as always for reading and for your comments and feedback.

Wynonna laughed. Not a gentle chuckle or a loud belly laugh, but a snigger, snorted through her nose. Like she was five.

“ _Hot_? Seriously? No really what’s your name?”

Nicole pointed wordlessly to her lapel badge.

“Oh _Haught_ ,” Wynonna straightened her amused expression out, aiming for apologetic but falling just a little short. “My bad.”

The Earp took another sizeable drink from the bottle and then passed it over. Nicole glanced quickly at the door of the precinct before tipping the bottle back herself.

“So you’re new in town, right?”

“Wynonna I’ve been here for _months_ now -”

“Right, right. So what was it about Purgatory that tickled your fancy? The views? That fresh farm smell? The mortality rate?”

“A few different reasons,” Nicole replied vaguely. She’d only had two sips of whiskey so far and wasn’t even _slightly_ ready to delve into any great detail about her reasons for being in Purgatory yet. Possibly ever. Least of all with the woman she suspected of connection with town murders. “Guess I thought I’d try out the small town life for a while.”

Wynonna snorted again and lifted herself off the corner of the desk. “Pfft. Lemme know how _that_ pans out. Can’t say it suits me.”

“So why did you come back?” Nicole asked plainly.

Wynonna frowned, eyes narrowed.

“I heard you were out of town for a few years,” Nicole shrugged. “If you hate it here why’d you come back?”

Wynonna’s eyes dropped to the bottle in her hands as she picked at the label, her voice small. “Family obligations.”

She switched expression suddenly, a carefree outward-facing version of herself back in place as she made herself comfy on the floor behind Nicole, leaning against Phelps’ empty desk. “You know I was in Athens before? The Parthenon on my left, the Colosseum on my right, Alejandro underneath-”

“The Colosseum is in Rome.”

“I’ll be honest I wasn’t really looking left or right. You wouldn’t either if you’d seen Alejandro,” she purred, shooting Nicole a wink.

“Probably not my type,” Nicole replied. She glanced once more at the doorway.

 _Screw it_ , she thought, joining Wynonna on the floor behind the desk and taking the bottle handed to her. “So what happened?”

Wynonna sighed a big sigh. “Just the universe reminding me that apparently half a world away is still not far enough to outrun my small-town origins.” She turned, her expression grave though Nicole didn’t believe for a moment that she was sincere. “Purgatory digs its small-town nails in deep, Haught, but there could still be time for you. Escape while you can.”

Nicole laughed and took another drink. The whiskey’s burn had started to fade and settle instead as a gentle warmth in her stomach. She knew that technically this was an under-cover op to find out more for her secret investigation, but she couldn’t help but start to relax a little. And what was the harm in that? It’s not like she wasn’t due a little slack.

“Anyway I got the call my Uncle was dead,” Wynonna continued into the silence. “Came back to town and figured I’d hang around for a bit. See who’d missed me.”

“And how’s _that_ been going?” Nicole smirked and raised an eyebrow, knowing the real answer all-too well.

Wynonna leaned in conspiratorially. “Well I know Nedley’s thrilled to have me back. Ol’ Randy did always have a soft spot for me.”

Nicole laughed and Wynonna snatched back the bottle, waving an authoritative finger in Nicole’s face.

“Hey, you might be Nedley’s new favourite, but he and I got _history_.” She took a clumsy swig from the bottle, the drink inside sloshing noisily as it slowly gained more space to move around. “This one time, when I got booted from my foster home again-”

“-Again?” Nicole raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, like I’m sure _you_ were a perfect teenager,” Wynonna surveyed Nicole for a moment then scrunched up her face. “Actually you probably were, weren’t you. Well anyway, I stole the key to my foster dad’s liquor cabinet and me and this other kid Lacey got _wasted_ . Nedley had to stay with me at the hospital all night once I got my stomach pumped because Mr and Mrs “pickett-fence” Parsons wouldn’t let me back in their house.” She nodded triumphantly. “Let me tell you - shit like that _bonds_ you. Me and Nedley: friends for life.”

“Yeah I’m sure he’s got the arrest paperwork from that night framed above his fireplace,” Nicole said dryly.

“Or in the locket round his neck. Close to his heart,” Wynonna put a dramatic hand over her chest and raised the bottle with the other.

The pause was momentary before the pair of them laughed.

“Well alright Miss Purgatory’s-Finest, what’s your story? You lone-wolfing it in this town or you got some people? Boyfriend?”

“ _Hell_ no.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Not currently.”

“Family?”

“Nope, just me,” Nicole admitted, taking her turn with the whiskey. The warm feeling was getting warmer. Comfier.

“My kinda girl,” Wynonna nodded approvingly.

“I do have a cat though.”

Wynonna made a face.

“What, you don’t like cats?”

“Pointless animal that steals my spot on the sofa or wants a share of my snacks? No thanks.”

“Depends on the snacks I suppose.” Nicole thought of the thing she had seen Wynonna eat the most. “Cats aren’t generally known for their love of donuts, so they’re probably safe.”

“Hm. Then I will consider them on species probation.”

The word ‘probation’ triggered a reminder in Nicole’s head: the object of this conversation was to extract information out of Wynonna. To get close enough to ask her how she was connected to Jay Novak and Megan Halshford’s murder. But as the two women shared small talk and the odd laugh Nicole found herself wanting to disrupt the moment less and less. Despite what everyone said about the Earp and despite her sometimes abrasive behaviour, Nicole thought she was actually alright.

It struck her that maybe Wynonna might even think the same about her. She couldn’t think of an occasion where she’d seen Wynonna have a conversation this long with anyone else that wasn’t Dolls or Waverly. Given the town-wide knowledge of Wynonna’s history it was likely that very few people gave her the time of day, let alone sat down with her for a drink and a chat. The more their whiskey-fuelled conversation went on, the more Nicole felt like maybe Wynonna had really needed a friend to talk to. Someone to just chill out with, no judgements and no pressure.

To be honest, Nicole needed the same thing. It wasn’t the person she expected, but she was certainly enjoying Wynonna’s company. Although their histories were worlds apart they seemed almost to speak the same language. Without really thinking about it Nicole had started to automatically add the Earp’s name to the list of possible allies here in Purgatory.

Then again, maybe the whiskey was helping that along.

“Cats are good mouse-catchers too,” she pointed out. “Now mice - _mice_ are the ones that’ll go for your donuts.”

“Huh. Protectors of donuts. Gotta say, the sound of that doesn’t suck,” Wynonna said, leaning back against the desk and putting her feet up on the seat of Nicole’s chair. “Tell me more.”

“Mice’ll get into anywhere there’s food. Leave a box of donuts out and they’ll be gone by morning.”

“Dude, who leaves a box of donuts out? You’re s’posed to _eat_ ‘em. You’re doing donuts wrong.”

“Well no snacks of any kind go missing in my house,” Nicole concluded proudly. “Calamity Jane sees to that.”

“Calamity Jane? Seriously?”

“Yup.”

“ _Nice_.”

Wynonna gave her a sloppy fist bump and grabbed the bottle back again.

“Plus, she keeps me company.”

“Well, I got Waves for that.”

 _Lucky you_ , Nicole thought wistfully. Time to change the subject.

“So where’s Dolls tonight then?” She asked, noticing the slight drawl in her own voice as she spoke. _Huh. How much whiskey have I even had?_

Wynonna rolled her eyes and shrugged with both arms. “I’m standing by for instructions,” she said in a deep, mock-Dolls voice. “Not that I was looking forward to Gong Bao chicken or anything. I cleared my whole schedule for a night of Black Badge research, like the good little worker-drone that I am and he just hops out of town for a while on the no-warning cryptic express.” She grumbled a few more words under her breath and had another drink.

“So it’s not just us Sheriff’s deputies that Dolls doesn’t keep in the loop then? That’s good to know.”

“Dolls is…” Wynonna trailed off into silence, trying to figure out what she was trying to say. “I dunno,” she said eventually. “I’m still trying to figure him out.”

“He one of reasons you stayed in town?” Nicole asked.

Wynonna shrugged. “Mostly Waverly,” she said. “I kinda owed her some big-sistering after bailing for so many years.”

“I’ll bet that means a lot to her,” Nicole said softly.

“Well she needed it too. Made some very questionable life choices. Like bubblegum sake and Champ the nine-second wonder.”

Nicole let out an angry ‘ugh’ noise at the open room. Wynonna smirked and nodded.

“Another one for team ‘Champ is a douchebag’,” she said, handing the bottle back again. “I like your style Haught. Always refreshing to find someone in this town that doesn’t think the sun shines out of his non-existent, denim-coated ass.”

“Champ’s a chump,” Nicole declared.

“Yesss,” Wynonna nodded vigorously. “And doesn’t have even a single chest hair. Man boy.”

“Boy-man!” Nicole cried excitedly. “That’s what _I_ call him.”

“Dude, _yes_.”

“Y’know, he tried to talk his way out of a speeding ticket once. Tried that cheesy smile thing.”

“Ugh, _tell me_ you didn’t let him off.”

“Like hell I did. That’s the best damn ticket I ever issued.”

“Officer Haught, you’re kind of my hero a lil’ bit.”

Nicole laughed, her head filled with Waverly and her stomach filled with whiskey, her plan to interrogate Wynonna now almost forgotten entirely.

“Best day since I came back to this hell hole was when Waves said she’d finally sent his non-ass packing. I swear to Ellen if she takes that man child back I’ll kick her ass into next century.”

“You’re a good sister.”

“Pfft. I’m a terrible sister,” Wynonna stared heavily out into the relative darkness of the bull pen. “But I’m trying to be there for her. I’m doing my best.” Nicole watched the introspection pass over Wynonna’s features once again before she shrugged it off in favour of mild indignance. “And how does she thank me? By waiting until I’m out working all night and throwing a secret party.”

“That’s harsh, man.”

“Stupid party,” Wynonna grumbled, lifting the bottle again. “You know exactly who she invited too. Chrissy Nedley.”

“What? Sheriff's daughter?” Nicole had met Chrissy a few times when she’d dropped by the station for a ride home with her dad. She’d always been quiet and courteous and hadn’t struck Nicole at all as the type of person to hang out with the girls she’d seen earlier at the diner. Then again, neither had Waverly.

“Mm-hmm! And Stephanie Jones. You know, one time, Stephanie told me that I should think about getting a butt lift.”

After crossing paths with Stephanie Jones earlier Nicole was very prepared to believe it was something she’d say. She was still appalled. To be fair, Wynonna had a great ass. Stephanie was clearly just jealous.

“What?! Your ass is like... It's top shelf, man. It's top shelf.”

“Thanks.” Wynonna gazed ahead, dipping back into her serious trains of thought. “Have I pulled Waves too close?”

Nicole understood what she was asking. Wynonna couldn’t be oblivious to the way Waverly played town chameleon, friend to all and nicest person around. And clearly her behaviour since Wynonna’s return to town had changed. They’d gotten closer and spent more time together, and according to team ‘Mean Girls’ at the diner this had translated to an outward appearance of acting weird and un-Waverly-ish.

And now she was throwing a party, keeping it a secret from Wynonna and inviting Purgatory’s answer to the Plastics. Was Waverly missing her life without her big sister around?

Nicole considered it for a moment. Perhaps it was true that Waverly wanted to reclaim a bit of her life from before Wynonna’s arrival and whatever disruption that had caused. But she’d still broken up with Champ. She still hung around the BBD offices all the time. She was still… _her_ . Perhaps even more so than she usually was. All that meant was that she was doing what _she_ wanted, and to hell with everyone else. Maybe even including Wynonna. The conclusion was clumsy and smelled faintly of whiskey, but Nicole felt like it was still probably true.

“You know, I think that Waverly has spent her whole life tailoring who she is to the people she's with.” She smiled at the thought. “She's only now just starting to figure out what she really wants.”

Anyone observing the conversation would probably have been one hundred percent aware at this point of Nicole’s feelings for Waverly. Hell, at this point anyone observing them right now would probably have a better grasp of Nicole’s feelings for Waverly than Nicole did herself. Wynonna however seemed to be permanently checked into motel oblivious and didn’t read the lovelorn undertones in the officer’s expression as anything other than sage wisdom.

“Dude, you're like a walking bumper sticker,” she said, awed. Nicole chuckled, as Wynonna continued. “Who's armed! Waverly should be hanging out with you.”

“I agree.”

She wondered what Waverly was doing right now, partying at the Earp homestead with a gaggle of two-faced bitches who didn’t deserve her company. She wondered if they’d be drunk too. Drunk _too_? Oh dear was she drunk? She tried to think about how much whiskey she’d drank and realised even as the thought was crossing her mind that she was bringing the bottle up to her lips again. Whoops.

Wynonna distracted her from her thoughts by lurching forward to grab the photo that Nicole had cast under her desk earlier.

“Who's this? Who's this lady?”

She overbalanced and couldn’t seem to right herself again so Nicole pulled her back by her belt with a laugh. She sighed as Wynonna brought the photo with her.

“That is victim number 3.” Nicole put the bottle down with a clink. She knew she probably shouldn’t pick it up again.

“Same guy killed 3 women?”

Nicole sighed. “Yeah, killing them was only the start.” She reached up and grabbed the full case file from her desk, opening it to look again at the carnage within. “Joyce Arbour. She's 22. We found her Wednesday morning, and the cause of death appears to be multiple lacerations, but of course, the autopsy report is practically _illegible_.”

Wynonna took the crime scene photo and looked over it.

“Dolls picked a _great_ time to go AWOL.”

Nicole watched the Earp carefully. Wynonna looked at the photos intensely and under that intensity there was…. Disgust? Sadness? Rage? Like the murder was an affront to her, personally? And there was uncertainty, panic, fear. Like she was adrift without a life-line. Without _Dolls_ , Nicole figured. But she wanted to do something. To take action. To help.

Nicole could relate to that.

“Uh, I need to see the body,” she said, turning to Nicole.

 _Wait what_? _Right now, in the middle of the night_? Nicole frowned. It wasn’t a BBD case. Was the Earp’s interest professional or personal? She seemed pretty spooked. Wynonna’s expression was urgent and her sincerity was clear and - and was her _nose_ _bleeding_?

“Earp, your face…” Nicole gestured to her own nose vaguely. Wynonna mirrored the action and her fingertips came back bloodied.

Nicole was waiting for the snarky quip that Wynonna would undoubtedly make to add some levity to the moment, but it never came. She just looked wordlessly from the red on her fingertips to the photos in her lap. The silence dragged on uncomfortably long and Nicole actually started to wonder if the Earp had forgotten there was anyone else in the room.

She cleared her throat and reached up to her desk drawer for the pack of tissues she kept there. She handed one to Wynonna who dabbed roughly at her face.

“Um, where’s the body kept?” she asked.

“Earp, it’s nearly one in the morning,” Nicole said plainly. “And the body is evidence in an active investigation.”

“Yeah, and I’m basically a _cop_.”

“No you’re not.”

“Alright I’m not a cop, but _you_ are and I am a Black Badge Deputy and we’re on the same side here.” Wynonna got to her feet, grabbing the bottle on her way up.

“Yeah but it’s not a Black Badge investigation,” Nicole pointed out.

“Well maybe now it is,” Wynonna retorted. “I seem to recall you were supposed to be bouncing cases that seemed hinky over to us?”

Nicole clenched her jaw. It was one thing for Dolls, the physical embodiment of government spook, to pull rank and play the jurisdiction card, but it was another entirely when the same sentiment came from a drunken deputy who had probably spent as much time in a cop car as Nicole had, but for the opposite reason. She pulled herself up to her feet and stepped just close enough to Wynonna to make the height difference apparent.

“And what exactly is it that you think is _‘hinky’_ about this case?”

Wynonna took a big gulp of whiskey, never breaking eye-contact. “Let’s go find out shall we?”

She marched off towards the door, photos still in hand. Nicole hesitated for a moment. She’d tried and failed to build bridges with Black Badge through Dolls. It was abundantly clear that he was going to keep her on the outskirts of any cases they were working on. It could be that this - that _Wynonna_ \- really was the window not only to the weird goings on in town, but also the agency that was looking into them.

Strictly speaking, marching down to the morgue in the middle of the night with someone who wasn’t on the case was not the protocol she was supposed to follow. Then again, neither was sharing a bottle of whiskey on the bull pen floor. And Wynonna _was_ a deputy. And she had sort of made an ‘official’ statement about BBD involvement. She was basically consulting. And so long as Wynonna was escorted by an official member of the Sheriff’s Department it couldn’t hurt right?

Nicole tried not to think about whether she would have arrived at the same conclusion had she been one hundred percent sober, and jogged after the Earp, case file in hand.

* * *

It was pretty old fashioned these days to have the police morgue on the same site as the station. In basically every other town that Nicole had ever heard of, the morgue was part of a forensics lab complex in a totally different site, or in some cases even just doubled up as the hospital morgue. Purgatory of course was a little behind the times and the morgue was part of a lower basement end of the sprawling municipal building. Mostly the medical examiner’s staff never crossed paths with the other building users, them having their own entrance around the block and having little need to venture up to the Sheriff’s offices. There was however, a labyrinthian route within the building that connected the two. Nicole led the way, through the empty corridors, past the legal offices and down the stairwell to the basement level.

She pushed through the door to the morgue, grateful that the MEs seemed to have left a light on inside. The cold, heavy stench of death greeted them like a sharp smack in the face and if Nicole hadn’t already felt like she was sobering up, she definitely was now.

“Ah, eww,” Wynonna grumbled.

“Yeah, they say you get used to the smell,” Nicole replied, going to check the toe tag of the body laying on the slab closest. One glance at the corpse’s face and she knew it wasn’t Joyce Arbour, but she wondered if she’d recognise the name from elsewhere. She didn’t, but she tried to make a mental note to check the name elsewhere. The morgue was a little too full for her liking and she wondered if any other of these deaths had suspicious circumstances surrounding them.

“I spent a summer's probation on roadkill removal. Pfft! This is nothing.” Nicole was once again reminded that Wynonna lived in a very different world than she did. By all accounts it seemed like she’d be an unlikely candidate for working in any kind of law enforcement.

Which led a whole new question to emerge in Nicole’s mind: _why_ was Wynonna working for the BBD? She seemed to have no great love for the job, so why did she do it?

She checked over the other bodies in the room and came eventually to the tag they were looking for.

“And here she is. Joyce Arbour.”

The body was entirely covered with a white sheet. Nicole felt a shiver run down her back. It was just a body and she’d already seen the autopsy pictures so she knew what she was about to see, but somehow there was an added tension in the room about the corpse under the sheet.

Wynonna approached slowly, staring intently at the sheet like she could see through it. She put the whiskey bottle down on the slab beside the body’s hand.

Seriously? Did it really not even cross her mind not to contaminate evidence? Nicole stifled a stern ‘tut’ and pulled the bottle out of the Earp’s hand with a reproachful glare. Wynonna barely noticed as the bottle was taken from her and placed on the floor, focused instead on reaching forwards to pull the sheet back from Joyce Arbour’s face.

Nicole looked over Wynonna’s shoulder at the woman below, who bore an eerie resemblance to the Earp herself. “She kind of looks like you, Wynonna.”

Wynonna pulled the sheet back further, revealing the grotesquely stapled incisions carving a ‘Y’ across the front of Joyce Arbour’s body.

“Jesus Christ! Who did this?” Wynonna murmured, horrified.

“Someone who knew what they're doing,” said a voice behind them.

Nicole blamed it on the creepy scenario, the lateness of the hour and the fact that she’d been drinking but she nearly jumped out of her skin, her hand flying to the gun on her belt as she whirled around to face the speaker. It was a small, greying man in scrubs and a lab coat with eyes wide in a ‘deer in the headlines’ kind of expression. Nicole took some comfort in the fact that he seemed to have startled Wynonna too. She was somewhat surprised to find the Earp could be scared like that, but grateful at least that she hadn’t been alone. She took a deep breath, calming her spiked heart rate as Wynonna shouted angrily at the new participant to their conversation.

“Dude! This is a morgue, wear a bell or something, OK?”

“Sorry. Once a ninja, always a ninja.” The man lifted his foot up to show off the shoe covers he was wearing. “Plus I forget I'm wearing these cotton balls for shoes. They help absorb the smell.” He paused, like he was waiting for them to make comment on it. Nicole tried for a friendly smile, but it was somewhat strained by her still elevated heart rate, the general weirdness of the situation and the total lack of anything to really _say_ in response to that.

“But you two pretty ladies don't care about that. Um, I'm Dr. Reggie, the unlucky SOB who has to make sure the dead don't rise again.”

“You suck at your job,” Wynonna said, like she knew something the other two didn’t. Like there was some zombie wandering around Purgatory that they didn’t know about.

Dr. Reggie was understandably confused. “Uh, excuse me?”

“Never mind.” Wynonna dismissed the statement, turning her attention back to the body and moving around to the other side of the slab.

Nicole decided that asking her what she had meant was a question for later, and turned back to Dr. Reggie, holding up the case file. “Did you do this autopsy report?”

Dr. Reggie took a look at the paperwork. “Uh... If I'd done this, I wouldn't have misspelled ‘breasts’. I can tell you something about the body. Did my own examination.”

“Anything unusual or creepy about the wounds or the way she died?” Wynonna asked carefully. Again, Nicole felt a subtext to the question, like Wynonna knew something about it already and was expecting a particular answer.

“Well, she died because humans can't survive when their organs are removed,” Dr. Reggie said matter-of-factly before taking a casual bite of a strawberry Twizzler.

Nicole stared. Twizzlers in the morgue? Seriously, did _anyone_ around here care about protocols?

“She was alive when he took them out?” Wynonna asked.

“Correct. But the incision isn't what killed her. He drugged her, hooked her up to an IV, a blood bag, just like any surgeon would doing open heart or intestinal surgery,” Dr. Reggie reeled off the explanation like it was nothing, apparently oblivious as Nicole and Wynonna shared a horrified glance at each other. “But here is the uber-weird part,” he went on, leaning in and gesturing to the lacerations with his half-chewed Twizzler. “The wounds were cauterized as they were made.”

Nicole felt queasy and she knew it had nothing to do with the combined smell of death and strawberry candy.

“So he cut her open with something hot?” she said in disgust. What kind of blade would even _do_ something like that?

“Like lightsaber hot,” Dr. Reggie confirmed, a little to enthusiastically for Nicole’s liking, taking another bite of Twizzler. Man, coroners were weird.

Wynonna was leant over Joyce’s body, staring so hard at the woman’s face that Nicole almost expected it to burst into flames.

“Hellfire hot,” she murmured darkly.

Nicole turned back to Dr. Reggie. “Alright, so you remove the organs if you're gonna sell them on the black market. Why would you take 'em out and then put 'em back in?”

This case was just piling up with weird. It was messed up enough that someone would brutally murder three people, let alone desecrate their bodies for reasons that seemed completely nonsensical. Whoever they were dealing with was one sick puppy and Nicole was starting to get the disturbing feeling that Wynonna had some idea of who it was.

“Maybe somebody was looking for something,” Wynonna said, still just staring at the body.

“You keep looking at her neck…” Dr. Reggie said curiously.

Wynonna looked up. “Yeah, there's a welt.” Dr. reggae frowned and sped around to the other side of the slab. Nicole leaned over the body to get a slightly better view of the mark Wynonna was pointing to. “Dude, I saw on the photos it's the shape of a spade, like on a deck of cards.”

Wynonna was right - there it was, plain as day for anyone to see. Nicole found herself unsurprised was starting to really question the competency of Dr. Reggie and wondered if it was worth making a note on her personnel file asking that in the event of her death the autopsy be conducted by someone else.

“Sweet crickets! I missed that entirely.” Nicole rolled her eyes.

The mark itself was hard to figure out and Nicole wasn’t sure she would have realised it was a spade unless Wynonna had pointed it out.

“What would have caused that?” she murmured.

“Well, she was hit by something in the shape of a spade, right?” Wynonna looked to Dr. Reggie for confirmation.

“I mean, sure, yeah. Or it could have been prolonged pressure.” He looked up at Wynonna with a smile that was wholly inappropriate for the situation. “Did, uh, you study forensics?”

Before Wynonna could deliver whatever undoubtedly curt retort was headed for Dr. Reggie the silence was cut by the sound of footsteps. Slow, deliberate and echoing around the morgue - possibly from the room above? Or the hallway? The three looked around, trying to place the source of the sound and Nicole’s hand automatically drifted back to rest on the gun at her side. The footsteps stopped and were followed by a gentle electronic bleep.

Dr. Reggie and Wynonna looked past Nicole’s shoulder and she turned to look at the bright blue light on the far wall that had just illuminated. Nicole felt her heart rate jump a little. Not in the good way.

“Someone just went into the cooler. You guys come alone?” Dr. Reggie looked back to Wynonna.

“I don't know, did we?” It was like Wynonna had wandered out of a bad horror movie and if Nicole didn’t one hundred percent believe the wary expression on the Earp’s face, she’d have suspected the whole thing to be an elaborate prank to scare her. It seemed like the kind of stupid stunt that teenagers would pull if they found themselves half-drunk in the middle of the night, in a place with the creep-factor cranked up to eleven. But her eyes met Nicole’s and her hand went for the buntline special at her hip, and Nicole was certain this wasn’t a joke. She unclipped her own gun holster ready. Ready, she realised, to work with Wynonna. Was she actually following Wynonna’s lead? Or maybe Wynonna was following hers? She wasn’t exactly sure. She gave the Earp a nod though and knew that whichever way round it was, they were definitely both on the same page: someone was in the cooler that shouldn’t be.

“Is there more than one way of getting inside the cooler?” Wynonna asked slowly.

“Uh, yeah. Rear exit.”

“Alright, I got it,” Nicole drew her gun and headed for the door to the hallway. She turned as she walked away and added, “-don't shoot me, Earp.”

She stepped out into fluorescently-lit corridor, eyes alert. Wynonna and Dr. Reggie emerged from the morgue behind her and went to the first door on the left: the main door to the cooler. Nicole and the Earp exchanged nods and she headed down the hallway towards the coroner’s offices and the rear exit. She turned the corner, passing the double doors that led outside and up the ramp to the street, where bodies were delivered and collected. She gave the door handles an experimental tug: locked tight, as they should be.

Gripping her pistol tightly she moved past the offices and towards the door at the far end of the corridor, where a similar blue light above indicated that someone was inside. She took a deep breath and tried to slow her pulse. The corridor felt longer than it should have. Was it a trick of the light? Was it because she still had a few glasses’ worth of whiskey inside her? Maybe it was simply because she was alone in the hallway now, trying to look both in front and behind herself as she went, determined not to let anyone get the drop on her.

She tried the handle. It wouldn't budge. Again, locked as it should be.

“Nicole?!” It was faint, but urgent - Wynonna’s voice calling her name. She sped back down the hallway and around the corner. The light was off above the main cooler door by the time she reached it and she just caught sight of Dr. Reggie heading back into the morgue. She jogged after him.

“The door was locked, I couldn't get in,” she said as she stepped into the room with the others, stopping dead in her tracks with a sickened lurch in her stomach at what greeted her.

Joyce Arbour’s head was turned to face them, her dead, glassy eyes open and staring, a playing card stuffed in her mouth. Nicole desperately wanted to look away but the body’s cold, dead stare had her caught in a terrifying trance. It was like someone was in there, looking out _through_ her. She felt a cold, sick feeling throughout her body, goosebumps crawling over every inch of her skin. Wynonna turned around, her expression capturing exactly how Nicole felt. She noticed the glint of red at Wynonna’s nostril again.

“Jesus, Wynonna…”

The Earp touched a hand to her nose and then gazed from the blood on her fingertips to the body on the slab, her breathing unsteady. Nicole had never seen her like this before. She was stunned, confused and shaken, like someone was inside her head, messing with her. _Toying_ with her. As far as Nicole could see, that was exactly what was happening.

“Here, I'll get you some cotton balls,” Dr. Reggie offered, moving towards one of the supply cupboards.

Nicole watched him carefully. He didn't seem too distressed that a body in his morgue had been tampered with. Perhaps it was all the the time spent around dead bodies, making him somewhat desensitized. Perhaps it was something else.... As far as she knew though he'd been in the cooler with Wynonna, so he couldn't have been the one to set this up. And even if he had run back, lightning fast, and messed with the body… Why? What would be the point?

Besides, the card in Joyce Arbour’s mouth looked like a spade. That couldn't be a coincidence.

“No, forget it, I'm fine,” Wynonna said not sounding fine at all, wiping at her nose and pushing past the others and out the door.

Nicole gaped wordlessly as Wynonna simply abandoned the situation, marching back down the hall towards the stairwell. Nicole looked from the doorway, to the body then back to Dr. Reggie.

“Did you do this?” she asked plainly.

“Christ, no!” he replied, finally having the good grace to look appalled.

Nicole clenched her jaw and grabbed the case file that Dr. Reggie had left on the nearby slab.

“Photograph the tampering and bag that playing card,” she instructed, heading for the door to follow the Earp. “I'll be back here in the morning to ask you some more questions. I suggest you go home, in case there actually _is_ someone else in the building.”

Dr. Reggie nodded vigorously as Nicole jammed her gun back in its holster and sped after Wynonna, keeping her eyes peeled as she went for any sign of another person lurking around any corners. Logically there was no way anyone else _could_ be in the building that shouldn’t. The exterior doors that didn’t already require security codes to open were locked up for the night before the majority of staff went home. But _somebody_ must have disturbed the body. She checked doors as she went, making sure all were locked - which they were.

 _I’m not sure what’s worse_ , she thought grimly as she returned to the bullpen, _finding someone or_ not _finding someone._ Whoever had been there seemed to have disappeared.

Wynonna was pacing in a distracted circle by the front desk, picking agitatedly at her fingernails. Nicole wasn’t sure what to say. The whole experience obviously had the Earp completely disoriented.

“Wynonna-”

“-Dammit, left my drink downstairs,” Wynonna muttered, looking at her empty hands.

“Oh I'm sure Dr. Reggie won't have drunk it _all_ yet,” Nicole said dryly, dropping the case file back on her desk. “Maybe the walk back down there will help…  clear your head?”

“Pfft!” Wynonna scoffed, heading instead for the break room.

Nicole followed, trying hard not to get mad at Wynonna's obvious plan to just breeze past what had just happened in the morgue downstairs. She huffed irritably. Nicole didn't care if the case _was_ Black Badge jurisdiction, there was no way that the ‘classified’ excuse was going to fly today. Something was going on and Wynonna was knowing more than she was admitting. It was time for some answers.

In the break room, Wynonna was rifling through the cupboards, presumably in pursuit of some kind of beverage to calm herself down.

“Nobody keeps booze in here, Wynonna,” Nicole pointed out, leaning against the table. She paused and then added: “Except you. You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Yeah. Dry morgue air is murder on the schnoz.”

“Bullshit! I think somebody's trying to scare you, toy with you. Why?”

“I picked up this case, like, an hour ago, how could…”

“It be connected to you? Yeah, I would _really_ like to know that too. People getting eaten by something? Call Wynonna. Guy gets murdered by a man in a mirror? Yup, Wynonna to the rescue.”

Nicole hadn’t intended it to turn into a mini-rant but her frustration about being kept so blatantly in the dark was starting to force its way out. She knew that, strictly speaking, it was the BBD not Wynonna that they called, but Nicole was starting to see a blur forming in the line between the two.  As she spoke, Wynonna stopped hunting through the cupboards and turned slowly to look at her, an entirely different expression on her face. The relatively open and chatty Wynonna that Nicole had been hanging out with was gone. She straightened up and leaned casually against the counter, wearing a superior kind of expression that Nicole recognised straight out of the Deputy Marshall Dolls playbook. She knew she’d pushed too far and was about to get the ‘classified’ speech, albeit Wynonna’s very own version.

“Black Badge specializes in cases that are, uh, too complex for rookie flatfoots, so it makes sense that you're a bit confused.”

Nicole found herself nodding in almost disbelief at the gall of it.

“I'm not.”

Wynonna’s eyes narrowed and she took a step forwards.

“Alternately... I don't suppose you have a deck of playing cards in this utility belt, huh?” Wynonna made to reach out for the pouch at Nicole’s waist.

Nicole flinched automatically and peeled back harshly at the accusation, a whole different kind of disgust bubbling up inside her. What? Was Wynonna seriously implying what she thought she was implying. She scowled and straightened up, making full use of the height she had on the woman in front of her. She didn’t generally go for threatening or aggressive behaviour, but the Earp had crossed a line. She didn’t care if it was the drink or if it was ridiculous paranoia talking - she found the accusation revolting.

“Excuse me?”

“How do I know you didn't double back to mess with the body?” Nicole simply gaped, part of her simply astonished that Wynonna had just come right out and said it and part of her feeling stupid for being so surprised. Had she seriously thought this woman could be her friend?

“Yeah, you're awfully interested in me and my sister,” Wynonna went on, laying as much threatening undertone into her voice as possible. “Maybe I should be grilling the shit out of you. Maybe you're the crazy one.”

Nicole felt a minor tug at her insides at the mention of her interest in Waverly, but it was fleeting. Mostly she just felt hurt. Sad. Angry. Angry that Wynonna was such a mess, such a wreck of a person that her first reaction when things got dark was to lash out and push people back. That she was so paranoid and angry and - yes, maybe so _crazy_ \- that she couldn’t even trust a _cop_.

And suddenly Nicole felt like she could see it: the thing everyone else in town saw when the watched Wynonna go by. She could see the aggressive, crazy ball of rage that had hurt so many people and made such a mess of peoples’ lives.

And a small voice, deep inside of her knew that she was seeing things this way because she too felt hurt. Because Wynonna was building up a barrier between them and because she was getting so tired of being fed the same bullshit about the town mysteries that she thought she was going to burst. Which was why she aimed for something equally sharp and spiteful to say in return.

“You of all people should know better than to try to make me question my sanity.”

She turned on her heel and strode out of the room, marching back to her desk. She sat down and place both palms flat on the desk surface, taking a deep breath. She looked at the clock; still a few hours before her relief came on duty. She glanced at the Joyce Arbour file and then pointedly tidied it away with the stack of papers in her tray. She could have kept looking into it now. Could have gone back down to the morgue to ask Dr. Reggie a few more questions,  but she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep a clear enough head not to lose her shit with him if he didn’t answer.

She felt _so angry_. It was anger she didn’t know what to do with. Anger built up from all the closed doors, classified cases and non-answers that she’d been facing for weeks. Perhaps Wynonna was just the catalyst. Perhaps it wasn’t really her fault.

Nicole looked up as Wynonna walked past her at that moment, silently disappearing into the Black Badge offices without even a glance in her direction.

No, Wynonna had _definitely_ been a dickhead. And she was angry about that too. Angry that Wynonna was close enough to whatever was going on that she must have at least some of the answers, but wouldn’t share them. Angry that someone who perhaps didn’t even deserve to wear a badge was able to investigate things that she, a top-of-her-class cop, couldn’t. Angry that she would speak to Nicole that way and that she would dare to accuse her of something so vile. Angry that she clearly needed help, but would rather offend and reject a potential friend than open up.

She took another deep breath and grabbed at the speeding fine paperwork she had lined up in front of her. She dug her pen unnecessarily hard into the paper as she worked and decided that she was done with Wynonna Earp, just like that. There was no helping someone that couldn’t be helped and she’d be a fool to bother trying again.

* * *

 

"Haught, it’s Wynonna Earp.”

Nicole grit her teeth and clenched the telephone receiver in her hand a little tighter.

“What do you want?” she asked shortly?

Wynonna had stormed out of the precinct just over an hour beforehand without a backwards glance or goodbye. And she hadn’t even locked the door after her.

“Look I know I’m not winning any Officer-Girl-Scout-points with the show I put on earlier but I need your help.”

Nicole laughed hollowly. “You’re kidding right?”

“I’m serious. Some shit went down at the homestead tonight and I still can’t get hold of Dolls and I just. I just need you to come down here alright?”

Nicole felt her chest tighten. “What kind of shit?”

There was a contemplative sigh from the other end of the line, followed by a pause.

“Well look I’ve got bodies that are gonna need dealing with-”

“What?” Nicole hissed. “Is Wa-” she corrected herself quickly. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No! Well… I mean, yeah _obviously_ , but nobody we know. Well, nobody we like. Some creeps tried to get into the house. It didn’t work out so well for them.”

Nicole tried to focus, her heart racing in her chest. Wynonna hadn’t mentioned Waverly. That meant she _had_ to be ok. Whatever had happened, Waverly had to be ok. She forced the panic aside.

“Wynonna you’re calling in a crime-scene, you gotta give me some information to work with here.”

“Shit, Haught no. This isn’t a case for Purgatory’s finest, I just need _your_ help. Off the record.”

_Off the record? She can’t be serious._

“Wynonna I’m a goddamn _cop_. You can’t tell me there was an incident at your homestead and that there are bodies to deal with and ask me not to follow protocols.”

Wynonna groaned irritably down the phone. “Ugghhh what good is being friends with a cop if you’re just gonna be Queen _narc_. I just need you to help me with this until I can call in the Black Badge cavalry.”

Nicole rolled her eyes and grit her teeth. “Wynonna, you’re a Deputy. If Black Badge has jurisdiction then _fine_ . Investigation’s yours and we’ll put the bodies on ice until you can reach your bosses but as of this moment you’ve reported a serious crime and I _will_ be calling it in.”

There was another pause on the line.

“You can do that? Just, pop the dead guys in the fridge on hold?”

“Wynonna, I’m not gonna let you hide bodies at your _house_ until your spook-tastic boss arrives,” Nicole said firmly, grabbing her cell phone and her keys from her drawer, readying herself to leave. “I’m calling Nedley and the coroner’s team-”

“No, not Nedley. For real, _not_ Nedley.”

“He’s the _Sheriff_ , Earp.”

“He’ll full-scale freak out. It’s better if you don’t know why. Just… just get here ok? No Nedley.”

She hung up.

Nicole glared at the receiver as if her death-stare would somehow reach Wynonna through it, and took another deep breath.

 _This is like the longest night of my life_ , she thought wearily, making the mistake of thinking the worst had already passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try and get the next chapter done ASAP, as I know this is a horrendous place to leave things.  
> Bear with me guys - I promise it will be worth it.


	11. When Earps Are Attacked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for sticking with me - this is the chapter I've been most excited to write so far. I've been a bit waylaid with Inktober and other commitments so it took a little longer than planned, but here it is. I hope you like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning* - I'm never sure what requires a trigger warning, but this chapter does include a reasonably graphic description of an attack.

_ What the hell are you doing Haught? _

Nicole sighed to herself for the thousandth time, gripping the wheel of her cruiser tightly as she drove down the highway. She was getting closer to the Earp homestead with each passing minute, hoping against hope that she wouldn't regret her possibly rash decision to trust Wynonna Earp. 

She hadn't called Nedley. By all accounts she should have, but she hadn't. She'd phoned Lonnie, who was on call, and told him that she was following up an incident that Wynonna had reported at her homestead, and that she'd call it in proper when she got there and knew what she was dealing with. Lonnie would man the precinct in the meantime. No need to disturb Nedley until they knew what they were looking at. Which was all true and quite reasonable. Apart from the apparent dead people that she had neglected to mention. 

She fully intended to follow all protocols to the letter as soon as she arrived at the scene. She had just elected to act like she knew no details until she got there. Like Wynonna hadn't even mentioned bodies. 

And she'd already made the call to Lonnie and committed to the lie before the horrifying reality of what she was doing hit her. She wished she could blame it on the sleep deprivation, or the trauma of the incident in the morgue or, hell even the _whiskey_. It had been a long night for sure, full of _weird_ shit and running around the basement of the municipal building like scared teenagers because something went bump in the night. And with all the frustrating and confounding mysteries surrounding half of the goings-on in Purgatory she was more than overdue some momentarily questionable thinking. 

But she knew it was a decision she'd made consciously to break protocols. To manipulate the truth and cover up a crime, even temporarily. To deviate from everything she stood for. To maybe even hamper justice. And why? Because Wynonna Earp had asked for a favour. A favour that she didn't deserve at all and a level of trust that she had no right to ask for given the way she'd behaved that night. 

In what world had she suddenly decided to trust Wynonna Earp? 

_ A world in which something bad happened at the Earp Homestead, and there are bodies, and you need to know Waverly is OK,  _ she told herself. 

Nicole tried and failed once again to push thoughts of the younger Earp aside. In reality, Waverly had occupied most of her thinking since Wynonna had put the phone down. She had a good deal to do with the reason Nicole dialed Lonnie’s number, and not Nedley’s. Regardless of Wynonna's unsubstantiated request to specifically keep the Sheriff out of the loop, if she'd called Nedley then there was a good chance he'd have benched her again. She'd have been told to hold down the fort back at the precinct and he'd have called Tate or Phelps to support at the scene. She wouldn't have been able to make sure for herself that nothing bad had happened to Waverly, and she simply couldn't handle the thought of that. It was impulsive, definitely, but still somewhat calculated. 

When had she become the kind of cop that made an assessment as to whether or not the rules were worth following based on her personal agendas? Whether or not the rules applied to her? Was it the product of more on-the-job experience and understanding what real small-town police work involved? Was it the result of seeing so many other people disregard protocols and procedures like they were nothing? Was this the kind of cop she wanted to  _ be _ ? 

Nicole felt an exotic cocktail of emotions as she turned off the highway to approach the Earp homestead. Some of it wasn't even to do with her crisis of principles. She'd never been out to the homestead before and Wynonna had been less than precise about the situation, so she had next to no idea what she was walking into. With the mention of an ‘incident’ and bodies to deal with, that was enough to make anyone a little jittery. 

But it was also the  _ Earp _ homestead, and she was more nervous than she was proud to admit about going to Waverly’s home. She didn't even have a decent reason why. It was just that same excited nervousness that always presented itself when she came into proximity with the young Earp. This was not the time or situation though to entertain her crush, so she tried valiantly once again to be professional and stop swooning over Waverly. 

She pulled up to the front of the old, rickety-looking house that the Earps called home. Wynonna was stood on the porch, waiting. She looked as apprehensive as Nicole felt. It crossed her mind that Wynonna had probably never had to deal with a situation like this before, and was still representing Black Badge solo in Dolls’ absence. Perhaps they were both in uncharted territory here. 

The thought was fleeting though, because Nicole could also see the bodies. 

_ No denying it now,  _ she thought.  _ It's time to call it in.  _

There were two, maybe three, bodies lying in the dirt outside the house. Nicole looked from them to Wynonna, who was watching her carefully. 

_ Waiting to see how I'll react,  _ Nicole thought. She killed the engine and stepped out of the car, setting her stetson carefully on her head. She took a deep breath and started forward. Wynonna walked over to meet her halfway. 

“Anyone need medical assistance?” Nicole asked immediately. Wynonna shook her head. “OK. Now tell me now why I shouldn't have called Nedley?” Nicole demanded sternly, nodding towards the bodies. 

“Because his daughter is inside and he would have freaked,” Wynonna replied. She saw Nicole's eyes widen and added, “oh she's totally fine, but there's no way Nedley would have taken my word on that.”

“What is it exactly you're expecting me to do here?” Nicole asked, folding her arms. “Create some big cover up and help you stash some dead bodies away for the spooks to clear up? I've already gone out on a helluva limb here by not calling it in to the Sheriff immediately. You've got two minutes to tell me exactly what's happened and who these people are. I'm calling Nedley either way.”

Wynonna growled exasperatedly. “Haught, I called you out here because I figured you'd be smart about this. It's not a freakin’ conspiracy, I just didn't need to make a scene.”

Nicole pulled her cell phone from her pocket, never breaking eye contact. 

“Ugh fine! Look, a couple of these guys tried to force their way into the house.”

“Why?”

“I don't… It's… It's need to know.”

Nicole glared. 

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “OK well, it's not  _ super _ clear right now. But it's to do with a Black Badge case. Anyway, they didn't get what they were after, but they did get…” Wynonna paused cautiously and looked over at the body closest, a young woman in a glitzy party dress. “Stephanie Jones.”

Nicole looked over, her breath leaving her body in an involuntary gasp. The phrase ‘murder house’ floated across her thoughts briefly. Stephanie was face down in the dust. 

“One of them got in the house but Waverly took care of him.”

Nicole whirled back to face the Earp, her eyes wide with panic that she couldn't hide, her heart racing. 

“Chill officer do-good, it was self-defence and it was necessary,” Wynonna said, misreading Nicole's expression. Nicole didn't care yet whether it was justified, just that Waverly had been in danger. Waverly had had to ‘deal with it’. Had the attacker hurt her? Had she killed them? Had she really had to take a life? What kind of effect would that have on her? Nicole hadn't ever had to take a life before, but it had been covered at the academy enough for her to know the weight it left on a human soul. 

Nicole's insides twisted uncomfortably as Wynonna continued - because  _ of course  _ there was more. 

“Mattie, the blacksmith from outside town, is dead too. She wasn't in on it or anything. I uh… I guess they killed her too.”

Nicole swallowed and tried to steady her heartbeat. “So what happened to the attackers? Who were they?” 

“Don't know. To both those things. Uh, cause of death unknown.” Wynonna waved her hand in the air dramatically, like she was casting some kind of spell. Like these people had dropped dead as a result of  _ magic _ or something. Could she really not take this seriously? Did she really not care that people were dead? 

“And you've still not heard from Dolls?” Nicole asked, trying to ignore her frustration. Wynonna shook her head.

It was at that moment that John Henry appeared around the corner of the house… Dragging a body. He froze when he saw them. Then stood up straight and tipped his hat. 

“Officer Haught,” he said courteously. 

“Seriously? He's moving a body?” Nicole said exasperatedly. 

“Well it's not like we don't know how he died,” Wynonna shrugged. 

“Did you at least photograph the scene before you started moving things around?” Nicole asked, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking a deep breath. 

“Well yeah,  _ duh _ ,” Wynonna scoffed unconvincingly. “What do you think this is my first day?”

Nicole didn't believe her for a second. She rolled her eyes and pushed past the Earp towards the bodies out front, as John Henry dragged the other body to an empty patch of yard. She used her phone to take as many photos as she could before these idiots disturbed any more evidence. Even if this was going to be absorbed into the ongoing question mark that was the BBD, there was no way she was going to let them skip any more due diligence. 

When she was done she looked back to where Wynonna was deep in a muttered conversation with Henry that she couldn't quite hear. 

“I won't assume it goes without saying that I'll need everyone to stay at the scene until I take statements,” she called over to them. For once Wynonna didn't seem primed to argue, giving her a short nod in response. 

Nicole turned to the house. She wasn't about to wait for an invitation from Wynonna so she marched up the porch steps and opened the front door. 

It was quiet inside, but she could hear a gentle conversation from around the corner. The house itself was nothing fancy, but it was adorned with bunting and throw cushions that Nicole suspected had been part of Waverly’s recent decoration efforts. Nicole pressed on, down the hall and rounding the corner to the sound of the voices. 

She came to the kitchen, where Waverly and Chrissy sat opposite each other at the table. Nicole's chest tightened when she saw the Earp, relieved to confirm with her own eyes that she had come to no physical harm. They looked up as Nicole entered, Waverly’s eyes in particular widening when she saw her. 

“Nicole,” she murmured. “Wynonna called you?”

Nicole nodded. “Are you OK?” she asked softly, remembering at the last minute to look at Chrissy too, addressing the question to both of them.

Chrissy nodded quietly and Waverly sighed heavily. “As OK as we can be,” she said. 

Nicole swallowed hard, fighting the urge to reach forward and comfort Waverly. To touch her arm the way she did when Shorty died. She dipped her head, breaking the eye contact and clearing her throat a little. 

“I'm gonna check the house over and then I'm gonna call the Sheriff.” Chrissy looked up at the mention of her dad. “Does he know you're here?” Nicole asked. 

“I don't think so,” Chrissy said meekly.

Nicole nodded, trying to mentally prepare for telling Nedley his daughter had been involved in a multiple-homicide home invasion incident.

“Right. I'll be nearby, and then I'll need to speak to both of you for a statement.”

She didn't know if she imagined it, but for a moment Nicole thought she saw a flicker of relief on Waverly's face. Maybe she was glad that Nicole was staying close. 

_ This isn't the time, Haught. _

A quick scan of the house later and Nicole stepped back outside, pulling her phone from her pocket once again. She took a deep breath and brought up Nedley’s number. 

The phone rang long enough that Nicole knew the Sheriff had obviously had to come round from a deep sleep to answer. She almost hoped that he wouldn't.

She heard the receiver pick up and Nedley’s gruff voice on the other end. 

“Hello?”

“Sir, it's Haught.”

“It's the middle of the night officer Haught, this had better be good.”

She took a deep breath. 

“Sir, I'm at the Earp homestead. Wynonna Earp called in an incident. 

“Ah  _ hell _ …” 

“Sir, I'm gonna need to call the coroner's team. There was some sort of attempted home invasion that went awry and there are casualties.”

“ _ Jesus H Christ _ .”

“It's all contained now, and Wynonna is saying it's connected to a Black Badge case so-”

“So it's their rodeo, they just want us to do the legwork,” Nedley said irritability. “Is anyone hurt?”

“The attackers are dead. Mattie Perley was here, although apparently not part of the attack. She's dead too. And Stephanie Jones.”

There was a pause.

“That's one of Chrissy’s friends.”

“I know sir.”  _ Deep breath Haught.  _ “Chrissy is here too, but she's totally fine.”

“Haught, tell me what happened right now.”

* * *

 

The phone call went on longer than Nicole would have preferred, but by the time it was done she had successfully convinced Nedley that there was no further danger and that she would be happy to stick around and see the incident through. Nedley agreed to call the coroner and his team to one and collect the bodies, and Nicole was to take statements and process the scene. Nedley would receive the bodies at the station, and call Stephanie and Mattie’s families. As soon as the call was over she worked like a machine: calm, methodical and detached. 

She took more photos of the whole scene, roughly drew out a floor plan of the homestead and marked the locations of each body. She took as official a statement as she could from John Henry, who had settled on a level of vague in his answers that was clearly a result of being vetted by Wynonna first. The coroner’s team arrived and collected the bodies, Nicole and Wynonna confirming to them Nedley’s instructions that the investigation was being conducted by Black Badge. As Nicole signed over custody of the evidence to the coroner the sun was starting to peek over the horizon. 

She stifled a yawn. 

“OK. I'm gonna need to get statements from Chrissy and your sister, and then we're done.” 

Wynonna nodded. “I'll do my part. You take Chrissy and I'll speak to Waves. It's a BBD case after all, right?”

Nicole grit her teeth and felt a disappointed tug in her stomach. Maybe it was for the best that she wouldn't be speaking to Waverly. Much as she wanted to scoop the petite woman up in her arms and tell her that she wish she'd been here to protect her, she wasn't just Nicole right now. She was a cop, and this wasn't a personal visit. It was hard enough trying to focus on her job knowing the young Earp was even close by. 

“I'll send Chrissy out to you,” Wynonna called over her shoulder as she headed into the house. 

Nicole wondered if that was deliberate: Wynonna keeping Nicole outside. Out of her home and away from her family. Nicole felt a stab of annoyance at that. Hadn't she more than earned the Earp’s trust? 

John Henry had started slowly walking the perimeter of the homestead buildings, glancing anxiously out over the empty rolling landscape, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol. What was his connection to the Earps? Why had he been here at all? Nicole was grateful, in a way, that he was. According to his admittedly vague rerun of events he'd offered a level of protection for the girls - for Waverly. Part of Nicole couldn't help but feel grateful for that, but there was still a big question mark above his head. Maybe one question too many for her liking. It was time for Wynonna to give some answers.

Chrissy joined her outside after a couple of minutes, wrapped tightly in her coat. She looked apprehensive as Nicole flipped over to a clean page on her notepad.

“Hi Chrissy,” Nicole said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “How are you doing?”

“Ok I guess,” Chrissy replied somewhat hollowly. 

“Well I'm gonna try and make this as quick as possible, but if it's too much and you need to stop then just let me know.”

“It's ok, really. I know you’ve got to ask questions. My Dad called and said you'd need to speak to me.”

Nicole gave her another smile and a nod. 

“Ok, well can you first tell me in your own words what happened last night?”

Chrissy took a deep breath. 

“Waves was throwing a party for Steph. She just got engaged. It was only me and Steph that went in the end. It was pretty quiet with just the three of us, but Waves’ friend Henry joined us after a bit. We were playing poker and there were some noises outside. Henry went to check and said it was the barn door, I think. And then… Maybe he popped back out to check again? I don't know…” Chrissy paused to think carefully. “Yes, he definitely went out again. Maybe he heard another noise.”

Nicole scribbled away at her notepad, capturing every detail. 

“And then the stripper arrived.”

Here, Nicole looked up. Thankfully, Chrissy was gazing off into the distance while she recollected the night’s events and didn't notice the Deputy’s surprised expression.

“Things were fine to start and then suddenly he was trying to attack Waverly and he had her by the throat,” Chrissy’s hand went to her own throat as she spoke and Nicole tried to bury the sick lurch in her stomach at the description of the attack. “And then Waverly had the scissors and she… She  _ scissored _ him in the ear!”

A very small, very quiet part of Nicole's brain couldn't suppress a laugh. 

“I thought he was dead but he got back up and Henry shot him out the door.”

The story had the same flavour of nuts as everything else that had happened to Nicole that night. Chrissy was telling it as if she, like Nicole, was out of the loop on some critical piece of information that would fundamentally change the tone of things.

“I hid upstairs until it was all over,” Chrissy continued, a little too hurriedly for Nicole’s liking. “When I came down Waves and Henry said everyone was dead.”

Obviously Nicole had questions, lots of them, but up until Chrissy started breezing through the details and skipping to the end she did at least feel like the young Nedley was telling her the truth. Now it felt like Chrissy was leaving something out. Nicole tried to look her in the eye, but Chrissy kept her face downcast. She cleared her throat.

“Did the uh… stripper, say anything? Give any clue about what he was after?”

Chrissy shook her head silently. Nicole chewed her cheek for a moment and noticed Wynonna emerging from the house over Chrissy’s shoulder. She knew this girl wasn’t telling her everything and she had a theory as to who might have asked her to leave certain details out. Sure, she could keep trying to press Chrissy for the full story, or she could go right to the source.

“I think that’s probably everything for now, Chrissy,” Nicole said warmly. “I’ll let you get back inside but if you think of anything else then make sure you call me, or let your dad know.”

Chrissy nodded and headed back towards the house where Waverly had emerged onto the porch, wrapped in a blanket. As always the sight of her set Nicole’s heart beating harder than it should. 

She turned to Wynonna as she approached Nicole’s cruiser. Right. Time to get those answers.

“Your sister OK?” she asked first, unable to go any further without some additional assurance that Waverly was alright. 

“Yeah, well, she's being Waverly.” It was a non-answer, but at least it wasn’t some ridiculous lie. That was a good start.

“Yeah, well,” Nicole chose her words carefully. “Chrissy says she scissored a stripper.” 

There was a twinkle in Wynonna’s eye that resembled something like pride, but she didn’t say anything. Nicole looked over to the porch as Waverly pulled Chrissy into a comforting hug. She was being a rock for Chrissy, like she herself hadn’t gone through something equally traumatic. Nicole turned back to Wynonna.

“So? Any idea why your homestead was targeted? I mean, besides the fact that it's yours?”

It was the million-dollar question and Nicole wanted to settle for nothing less than a million-dollar answer. She wasn’t expecting the casual suggestion of food. 

“You know what, we should get some breakfast. I could murder a sack of pancakes.” Wynonna looked her in the eye, unblinking. “Then we'll talk, really talk.”

Really talk? But about what? Wynonna had made her feelings about trusting Nicole very clear that night and seemed to be forgetting that that was how things had been left. 

“OK, you're gonna help me understand why some of these cases are a little too complex for local flatfoots?”  

“I'll do my best.” 

It certainly wasn’t an apology and perhaps when the time was right, Nicole would remind Wynonna of that. For now, the promise of some honesty would have to do. 

“Your boss gonna be OK with that?” 

“My boss isn't here,” Wynonna shrugged. 

Nicole nodded, knowing this wasn’t going to be an official conversation. But then, that fit perfectly with her unofficial investigation. “OK.”

“Guess you're my ride.” Wynonna headed for the passenger seat of the car.

Nicole felt a disappointed tug at her stomach. She had hoped for the chance to speak to Waverly again in a more…  _ friendly _ capacity. She’d been one hundred percent cop, taking photos and notes and processing the scene and she hadn’t once had a moment to offer her condolences for Stephanie, or demonstrate even an ounce of the supposed friendship she’d been working on with the young Earp. 

She turned towards the driver’s door of her car and chanced a quick glance back at the house. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Waverly was already watching her. She looked away shyly as she was caught staring, and then back again, their eyes locking across the yard and a small smile gracing her lips as she gave Nicole a tiny wave. Nicole smiled faintly in a dazed sort of way and for a moment everything else that had happened just peeled away. 

She heard Wynonna close the car door and forced herself to tear her eyes away, making a mental promise to herself to call in on Waverly later. After she’d found out from Wynonna what was really happening, that is. 

Wynonna was fiddling with the stereo as she got into the car. As she pulled out of the yard towards the highway she could just see Waverly in the rear view mirror, leading Chrissy back inside the house. She sighed. There would be time to think about Waverly later.

For now she found herself distracted by Wynonna-sitting once again.

“Dude, how do you work your heater, I’m freezin’ my boobs off here,” Wynonna said irritably, continuing to fiddle with the dials on the dashboard.

Nicole rolled her eyes and twirled the appropriate knob, sending a waft of warm air out of the grill. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, the stereo playing an old-fashioned tune that Nicole didn’t recognise. She glanced over at Wynonna who was picking at her fingernails. She sighed.

“So are you gonna start explaining things or do I really have to put breakfast in front of you first?”

Wynonna sucked the air noisily through her teeth as she took a deep breath.

“Where to start,” she sighed. 

“Well, you could always start with something simple like what the hell really happened at Waverly’s party tonight,” Nicole said with more than a little bite to her tone.

“You saw for yourself,” Wynonna said plainly. “House invasion gone uber wrong.”

“This is your idea of  _ ‘really  _ talking’?” 

“Geeze, just gimme a second to get into it, would you?”

“Ok, so start with something even simpler. Why do you work for the BBD?”

Wynonna did the teeth sucking noise thing again and Nicole’s eye roll extended to her entire head.

“Earp, seriously?”

“Ok, so gimme  _ more _ than a second.”

Nicole was rolling her eyes so much she was starting to feel dizzy. Her grip on the wheel tightened and she sighed frustratedly at the road ahead. She squinted. There was someone up ahead. A man, wrapped tight in a heavy over coat with the collar turned up, waving  and flagging them down. Probably a Purgatonian in need of a ride back to town. She sighed and began to slow the car. A cop’s work was never done, apparently. She really couldn’t wait for her next day off. 

“Well look, you can’t expect me to start divulging classified government intel if you’re gonna stuff a hitchhiker in the back seat,” Wynonna said flatly.

Nicole turned and gave Wynonna a withering look as she pulled the car to a stop, winding the window down. “Can you please just act for a moment like you care about other people?”

She made to turn back to the window, her ‘excuse me sir are you in need of assistance’ on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t get that far.

She didn’t see what hit her. It was heavy and solid and it felt like her head had exploded above her left eye. She reeled from the hit, blinded, clawing at the dashboard for support, like it would stop the world from spinning. 

“Shit! Nicole!” Wynonna’s voice seemed further away than it should have been. She was sat right beside her in the car wasn’t she? Why did she sound like she was on the other side of a pillow?

Her hands felt warm, sticky. She blinked. It was blood. Her blood. On her hands. She blinked again and her instincts kicked in. Her hand closed around her handgun, but Wynonna already had hers drawn and pointed towards the man at Nicole’s window.

If the blow to the head hadn’t rocked Nicole’s senses, the close proximity to the gunshot certainly did. What little she could hear before had now gone entirely, replaced with a persistent ringing. 

The man had vanished from Nicole’s window, Wynonna’s shot sailing into the field beside the road. A second later and the passenger side door was wrenched open and Wynonna pulled violently from her seat.

Nicole flung her seatbelt away and launched herself out of the car, gun drawn and aimed. The man had Wynonna by the throat, lifted off her feet into the air. Nicole didn’t hesitate. She fired four quick rounds into his back. 

He barely flinched. He turned and look over his shoulder and Nicole gasped. His eye sockets were dark and deep, his pupils glowing. What. The. Hell.

In a blink he’d thrown Wynonna to the ground and sped around the car. He was fast. Inhumanly fast and she didn’t get a chance to look at his face as he moved. Nicole barely had time to turn and lift her gun again before he was upon her. His hand lashed out at the gun. 

Nicole screamed as a searing hot pain erupted across her hand and wrist, and the gun fell apart, the pieces glowing red hot at the edges. Her mind whirled. Did he have some kind of hot-bladed weapon? The phrase ‘lightsabre hot’ ran across her mind and she felt a sickening sinking feeling in her stomach. Was this the man who had murdered Joyce Arbour? The serial killer?

Before she’d had a chance to process anything further his hand was around her throat, slamming her back against the car and lifting her off her feet. Her vision started to blur and darken at the edges. She knew she was about to pass out. Time to make those precious few seconds count. She put all her weight behind her good hand and threw a punch at his head. His grip loosened momentarily and Nicole tried to wrestle free. She caught a glimpse of his face but it looked… 

She had to be hallucinating because it looked like his face was on fire, his eyes burning and his skin cracking open to reveal a red hot glow beneath. As if his blood was made of lava. She gasped for air, adrenaline turning to panic as his hand tightened around her throat once more. 

Another gunshot rang out and the attacker finally staggered and released his grip of her throat. She dropped to the ground heavily, feeling a sting in her shins as they absorbed the impact of her sudden descent. As she crumpled to the ground, gasping and coughing she saw the attack speed around the car once again, a blur before her eyes.

_ He's going after Wynonna,  _ she thought weakly. Clutching her bleeding right hand she rolled over and looked underneath the car to see the Earp’s boots standing on the other side. She turned on her heel, presumably to face the attacker as he approached around the front of the car.

Another gun shot. And then suddenly there was a third set of boots beside Wynonna.  _ Behind  _ Wynonna. Nicole tried to call out, but her voice was hoarse and weak, not making it past her recently throttled throat. It was over in seconds. The owner of the new set of boots stepped right up behind Wynonna and a heartbeat later she was on the floor. 

_ Shit. Shit, shit, shit. _

Nicole grit her teeth through the pain and pushed herself up into the car once again, reaching for the dispatch radio. Her fingers had barely closed around it before she felt a hand grab at the back of her shirt, wrenching her back out of the car, ripping the radio clean from its cable. 

Nicole thrust out a foot wildly and felt it connect with something solid she hoped was bone. The attacker’s grip on her shirt didn’t falter though, and he slammed her into the side of the car, knocking the wind from her. She crumpled to the floor again. 

The world was spinning. Everything hurt. It felt like someone had stuffed cotton wool into her ears and down her throat.

_ This isn’t over Haught, you gotta move. Now _ .

She tried to push herself upright again, aware that the attacker -  _ attackers  _ \- were still right there. She didn’t know if Wynonna was still alive. She had to get away. She had to get help. Had to tell someone that it wasn’t just one man working alone. That there were two of them. They didn’t seem too concerned as she propped herself up onto her elbows and tried to crawl away from the car, pushing past the nausea as her vision swam in front of her eyes. 

She was maybe three or four feet away when she felt the boot on her back, pressing her roughly to the ground. She fought against the hysterical tears that tried to force their way out and lunged out blindly with her elbow. A heavy hand pinned her arm to the ground too, and her field of view darkened as the attacker leant over her. The weight of his body on her back shifted from a boot to a knee. He was leaning in close.

She thought she could hear his voice. He was saying something. His voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. What was he saying? Something about a doctor. That the doctor would fix her.

And then there was a sharp pinch in her neck that she guessed was a needle. Within seconds, the spinning in front of her eyes turned into an absolute kaleidoscope of swirling colour and shadows. There was no more fighting it now. This was it. Game over.

* * *

 

Had she blacked out? Did she just blink? How much time had passed?

It felt like her eyes were open, but all she could see were dark shadows. Her face felt numb and distant, like she was getting all her senses second-hand. She wanted to throw up. She’d never felt so dizzy and sick in her life. She felt the rhythmic motion of being carried. Someone had an arm around her middle, their hand digging into her side. 

There was the crackling of leaves and twigs underfoot and she realised most of her hearing had returned. The ringing persisted. She tried to look around but every movement was a new adventure in pain and dizziness. It was like the worst kind of being drunk - times a thousand. She thought she glimpsed the shape of trees amongst the blur. They were in the woods.

The woods. Where they would probably never be found.

Because this was the serial killer. The killer that had cut open Joyce Arbour and rearranged her organs while she was still alive. Nicole would have cried, but she could barely even feel her own face. Hell, she could well have been crying already.

Suddenly they stopped and she was turned over. She felt the hand, a grip like iron, grab a fistful of the front of her uniform and she was lifted what she assumed was upright. The shadows in her vision were intermingled with shafts of light. Light between trees maybe? 

“Hmm. No, no, no, this won’t do I’m afraid,” said a voice. It was different to the first one she’d heard. It was soft and sinister and the speaker annunciated with surgical precision. And he was close. Nicole could practically feel his breath on her face. This man, who had murdered three women already. Had they gone through the same thing before they died?

“Doctor?” There was the familiar voice. Fearful. Subservient.

“No, won’t do at all. She’s entirely the wrong kind.”

With that he cast her aside - threw her as if she weighed nothing. She landed on her side, felt something in her ribcage crack, and cried out. The ground beneath her was wet, cold and covered in rocks and branches. It had to be the woods. 

“See to it she’s dealt with, please.”

As she wept she heard footsteps walking away, and another set approach her. A shadow loomed over her in the fog of her vision.

“I guess some people can’t be fixed,” said the familiar voice. 

The kick came out of nowhere - an agonising blow to her chest, and for a moment she thought her heart might have stopped completely. She barely noticed the second attacker leave. Leave her there, in the dirt. Broken.

She didn’t know how long she lay there like that. She tried a few times to call out, her voice meek and hoarse. She knew it wouldn’t carry far. They’d been pretty far from civilisation when the attack began and it was unlikely the abductors would have opted to leave her somewhere deliberately conspicuous. She tried to concentrate on breathing, but every intake of air felt like a stab in the chest. She tried to move, but whatever drugs were in her system seemed to have disconnected her limbs from her brain. She gazed up at the hazy light of the sky above as the bitter cold cut into her skin, exhausted and every inch of her throbbing with pain. The chilling reality was sinking in. 

She was going to die here. She’d be lucky if anyone ever found her body.

She thought about Calamity Jane; had she left enough food in her bowl last night? Would she manage long enough before someone went to check on her? Nedley would probably take care of it. Nedley would be the one to arrange everything. Nedley would call Shae. Would she come to Purgatory to identify her body? Would she call Nicole’s family?

Nicole thought of her family, of all the things left unresolved. She wondered who would be there at her funeral. Would Justine brave the small town world to come pay her respects? She wished she’d called her again this week, like she’d meant to. She didn’t know she’d never get another chance.

And she thought of Waverly. The smile that could light up the world. A beacon of sunshine in a town-full of shit and darkness. What would happen to her now? Her sister was likely dead. Who would be there now to protect her from the inexplicable… the  _ other-worldly _ goings-on in Purgatory? Because Nicole knew now without a shadow of a doubt that there had to be something supernatural going on in this town. She couldn’t even believe it really, but it was plain as day. Not that it mattered now. Not that she could warn Waverly - assuming she didn’t already know. Which, in hindsight, she probably did. Would she forgive Nicole for not figuring it all out sooner, and for not being able to protect Wynonna? Would she shed a tear for for the fallen Officer Haught?

Nicole’s body was starting to feel less cold now. She could almost fool herself into thinking she was getting comfier or that the pain was subsiding, but she knew better. Why fight it? Why fight any of it anymore? 

She closed her eyes and let her memory drift back again to the beautiful woman stood on the porch of the Earp homestead - and Waverly’s smile was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very keen with this chapter to come up with some reasonably legit explanations of some of the details that are just breezed past - like where all the bodies went after Clootie's attack on the homestead, and why Nicole would end up there by herself rather than the whole police cavalry coming in. I know there's a reasonable amount of artistic license here in terms of correct police procedure, but I figured that after a whole night of breaking police procedures and all the weird shit she finds herself in the middle of, she'd be more open to bending the rules to get to the truth. I hope you guys agree!
> 
> As always, your feedback is most welcome!


	12. The Woods For The Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boom! That's probably the fastest chapter update I've ever done, but I really couldn't leave things hanging where they were. Fair warning though, this chapter is angsty AF. 
> 
> We've finally moved onto episode 1x08, but Nicole isn't out of the woods yet. Ahem. No pun intended. 
> 
> *Trigger warning* - one brief reference to sexual assault.
> 
> As always, thank you for your kind comments - your feedback has been lovely!

The air was warm and cosy. Nicole breathed in a deep lungful. She blinked and looked up. She was curled up on her sofa, buried under a pile of blankets. Had she fallen asleep? 

Calamity Jane was curled up on the sill, the tip of her tail flicking gently back and forth as she watched Nicole with lazy eyes. The room was silent. She couldn’t hear the sound of the neighbourhood outside, or her rusty boiler firing up every few minutes as usual. It was like someone had hit the mute button on the world. Something was definitely off, but still… she felt relaxed. Calm.

“Thinking of staying here?” asked a voice behind her. 

She looked round. Waverly Earp was leaning on the kitchen doorframe, watching her with a familiar smile.

Nicole smiled back, taking in the warmth, the comfort. “I was considering it.”

Waverly nodded understandingly and made her way around the end of the sofa. She sat down beside Nicole, pulling the blankets up over her knees.

“I guess I can understand why you might think that’s the best option,” Waverly shrugged, the gentle smile never leaving her face.

“Isn’t it?” Nicole asked. She looked around at the room. It was warm and soft, she was comfortable and Waverly was here. It sure seemed like a good place to be. 

Waverly’s smile broadened warmly. “C’mon Nicole. Are you really trying to convince yourself you’re done?”

“Done?”

“There’s work to do Nicole. It’s not over.”

Nicole blinked. She was standing by her car at the Earp homestead, her stetson on her head, her notepad in her hand. Waverly was stood on the porch, wrapped in the same blanket from the sofa. The landscape was covered in snow and Nicole knew it ought to have been cold, but the air still felt warm and comfortable like it had done back at her house.

“You’re not done, Nicole,” Waverly said, and Nicole could hear her like she was stood right beside her. “You’ve got work to do.” And she smiled that same smile. “Time to wake up.”

And suddenly there was pain. Suddenly there was cold and pain, wind and rocks. She blinked and the comfort of the dream was gone. Her eyes darted around wildly, adjusting to the light and pulling into focus the trees surrounding her on all sides.

The woods. She was in the woods. What had happened? She tried to move her head and screwed up her face as the world span in response. She racked her brain, trying to conjure some recollection of… anything. It was all she could do just to remember her own name.

Waverly. She blinked again. She remembered Waverly. Standing on her porch - the  _ Earp’s _ porch. Nicole had been at the Earp homestead, because there had been an attack. Bodies. Stephanie Jones. The information came flooding back in irregular clusters. Patchy and confusing. She’d been with Wynonna, at the station, right? They’d been drinking. Nicole swallowed a wave of nausea. She certainly  _ felt _ drunk. She managed to lift a filthy, blood-soaked hand up and felt an excruciating stab of pain down her arm as she did so.

And as she flinched from that pain, she shifted her body and caused an all-new ripple of agony across her ribs. Her vision swam with tears and she tried not to panic, her heart rate rising. This was not good. She needed to get help. She needed-

She heard a car approach. She managed to crane her neck far enough to just see a pickup truck passing by on the other side of the treeline to her right. She was by the road. Was she near town? 

Her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment and when she opened them again it looked like the shadows had moved. Had she blacked out? She managed to look down at herself and tried to subdue the instant alarm when she saw how much blood she was covered in. Her right hand was cut open but it didn’t seem a big enough cut to be the source. She took a deep breath and lifted her head enough to see her clothes again - they were bloodied and disheveled, but otherwise intact. She shuddered with more tears as she permitted herself the brief feeling of relief at the evidence that she probably hadn’t been sexually assaulted. It was only a partial consolation as the cold bit into her body and she felt the pull once again towards unconsciousness.

She probably didn’t have much time left. If this blood was all her own then she’d slip into shock pretty soon. She’d only get one chance to do this.

She took a deep breath and managed to roll herself over. It was agony. It was like a thousand knives driving into her lungs, her liver, her heart. She dragged herself through the dirt and snow, trying not to think about how she couldn’t really feel her fingers anymore. Her vision was blurring and swimming, like she was seeing the world through the bottom of a bottle. The distance to the road seemed a million miles and she had to stop half way to catch her rough, shallow breath.

She felt her heart beat irregularly, like it was slowing down, and a vignette started to shroud her sight. She looked up urgently searching for the roadside. It was just a few feet away, but it was on the other side of a ditch. She probably didn’t have the energy or consciousness left to climb up to the road itself. Through the fog and the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears, she made out the sound of another approaching vehicle.

_ One shot left Haught. Make it count. _

She groaned and cried out in pain, and propelled herself forwards as the car came to drive past. Her sudden motion did the trick: the driver spotted her. His alarmed expression was the last thing she saw as she tumbled forwards into the ditch. She was unconscious before she reached the bottom.

* * *

 

“We got her.”

The next thing she knew was opening her eyes to the sight of three or four people leaning over her, the white sky and bare trees visible over their shoulders.

“Officer Haught, can you hear me?” one of them asked, shining a light into her eyes. 

She tried to nod. She didn’t know if she actually managed it or if it was just motion sickness that made her feel like she had. One of the people put an oxygen mask over her face and another was setting aside some equipment that Nicole recognised from first-aid training as a defib. They were paramedics, then. And she had been... They were saying something to each other that she didn’t quite catch. Something about lifting on three.

And then they lifted her and her own agonised scream was the sound that rang through her ears as she disappeared into unconsciousness once again.

* * *

 

When she opened her eyes again she was in a hospital room. She blinked a few times. She honestly hadn’t been expecting to wake up again.

“Officer Haught,” said a voice to her side.

She turned, grateful to find that it didn’t cause an immediate wave of nausea and spinning. Nedley was at her side, and over his shoulder another officer hovered in the doorway, possibly Tate.

“Sir…”

Nedley looked conflicted, clearly halfway between relief and professional restraint. He fiddled with his hat in his hands.

“How you doin’ there Haught?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

Nicole swallowed and blinked, her eyelids heavy. She felt drunk, but in a kind of warm, fuzzy way. She was on some kind of painkiller, probably.

“I’m doin’ ok,” she murmured drowsily. This was a lie. Despite the painkillers her body still felt like an all-over bruise. Her right hand was bandaged heavily, the blood partially soaked through. Her ribs felt like they’d gone several rounds with a baseball bat. Her ears were ringing and her head felt like it was in a vice. She frowned and felt a sharp pull above her left eye. She reached up gingerly towards the pain, but Nedley reached out quickly and stopped her hand in its tracks.

“Woah now,” he said. “Careful or you’ll open up those steri strips. You've lost enough blood already.”

“I hit my head?” 

Nedley huffed an anxious sigh. “What do you remember?”

“Not a lot,” she admitted. “I was… I was at the Earp homestead.”

“Do you remember getting into the car with Wynonna?” Nedley asked gently. 

Images and memory fragments flashed across Nicole’s mind. Wynonna, offering her a bottle of whiskey at her desk in the precinct. The pair of them stood beside Nicole’s cruiser outside Wynonna’s house, talking about pancakes. The sound of Wynonna calling her name out in alarm, followed by a gunshot.

“Sir… what happened?”

Nedley sighed again, fidgeting from foot to foot. “Your car was found on the highway, doors open, engine running… blood…” He paused as he watched the alarm creep onto Nicole’s face. “Wynonna’s missing.” 

Nicole felt the wound on her head throb as her pulse started to race. Wynonna was missing.  She screwed up her face willing the memories to come, but it was a fog. She felt her chest burn as the pace of her breathing started to increase. 

“Woah, woah, take it easy now,” Nedley said, stepping forward and resting a firm hand on her shoulder. She flinched reflexively, not really knowing why, and he withdrew his hand. “Hey, sorry.” he muttered, not unkindly.

Nicole’s mind was racing again. She’d been at the Earp homestead. There’d been an attack on the house. She and Wynonna had gone to see a body in the morgue. She clenched her teeth in frustration, pushing past the pain it sent shooting across her brow. The memories were coming in the wrong order and it seemed that the vital ones were missing.

“I uh, I called your next of kin.” Nicole whirled to look at him, her eyes wide. “She’s getting on the next flight,” he continued.

Nicole was already shaking her head before she even realised it. “Sir, please you have to call her back. I don’t need-” 

“You nearly died, Nicole,” Nedley said flatly. “Y’think someone that cares about you won’t want to come make sure you’re ok?”

“Please, sir,” Nicole said weakly, a whole new kind of panic setting in at the thought of the complications of Shae turning up in Purgatory. “Please, I’ll call her just… can you get me a phone…”

Nedley clearly wasn’t a willing participant to this plan, but he huffed another sigh and nodded. “I’ll call the station and get Phelps to send over the number.” He gave her a reassuring nod and headed out into the hallway. Tate swapped places with him, taking a step towards the hospital bed.

With a pin in that particular source of panic, Nicole’s attention returned to the more pressing matter at hand.

“Wynonna’s missing?” she asked.

Tate nodded. “They reckon they saw some tracks in the woods near where they found you, but the lost the trail. Not too far from the Earp place.”

“And Waverly?” Nicole asked urgently. The question was out before she’d really considered what her concern might look like. Not that she cared. Wynonna was missing. It sounded like she’d been taken from Nicole’s car. Nicole was alive. They had no such assurance for Wynonna. If they weren’t far from the homestead when the attack happened, then did that mean the attacker had paid a visit to the younger Earp too?

“She’s fine, as far as I know,” Tate replied. “I think her and that Dolls fella from Black Badge are gonna probably want to come talk to you.”

Nicole nodded. She looked down at herself. She'd been cleaned up since her arrival, the blood washed off her hands and her ruined uniform shirt removed. It was disorienting to wake up somewhere different, dressed in different clothes, the evidence of the… ‘ _ incident’  _ taken away. But she could still see it - the blood on her hands and her shirt. She could still feel the icy cold of waking up in the woods. Waking up without knowing how she got there, or what had been done to her. 

“Hey now, it's OK. You're gonna be ok,” Tate was saying warmly and she realised she was crying.

It started out as a few stray tears and turned into great gasping sobs. The reality was starting to set in. She'd been attacked. Wynonna had been abducted. She'd been revived at the roadside by EMTs. She should be dead. 

Tate, to his credit, handled this breakdown well. He put a gentle hand on Nicole's forearm, evidently conscious of not pushing any further into her personal space than that. It's not like they were really friends, after all. Nicole reached over with her unbandaged hand and gripped at his sleeve, like it was an anchor, stopping her from slipping away into a total hysterical meltdown. 

“You're gonna be ok Haught,” he repeated. “You're tough as hell, remember. And you're safe now. We got you.”

She looked at him as he gave her an encouraging smile, and couldn't begin to articulate how not OK she was. How not OK any of this was. It was like a bad dream, where nothing makes sense but you can’t escape the underpinning sense of dread. Wynonna was missing and whoever had taken her had left Nicole for dead in the woods. What might they have done to Wynonna? What might they have done to Nicole? What  _ had _ they done?

The questions came one after the other in rapid succession, followed by more waves of disorientation and fractured memories.

“What happened Tate?” Nicole asked eventually, finally regaining control of her breathing. “What happened to me?”

“You were beat up pretty bad,” Tate replied honestly. “Couple of broken ribs. Lots of bruising. Took a pretty hefty blow to the head. Doc reckons you’ll have concussion something awful.” He paused and a slight smirk appeared on his face. “They reckoned you fought back though. Hard. Bruises on your knuckles and elbows, match defensive wounds.”

Nicole looked down at her left hand and saw the purple and blue shadows that were emerging around her knuckles and her wrist. So she’d fought back. Who had she fought?

“Why…” she asked vaguely, her head starting to fog over a little. “Why were we… who…”

“Don’t exactly know why you were targeted,” Tate said, the smile on his face swapping for a much more serious expression. “Seemed like a fool move to try and take out a cop but… We reckon we know who.”

Nicole tried to pick apart the grave intensity of Tate’s frown. He dropped his gaze, avoiding eye-contact. “Sheriff reckons it might be the same psycho that murdered those three girls.”

Nicole’s pulse started to race all over again and she felt like her airway was closing up.

The serial killer. The serial killer that carved up Joyce Arbour and the other two victims like they were some sadistic version of Operation had attacked them, left Nicole in the dirt and taken Wynonna. Her head swam at the thought of it and she remembered how she herself had commented on how much Wynonna had resembled Joyce Arbour. 

The pressure in her head seemed to increase and she felt nauseous and dizzy. Her grip on Tate’s sleeve tightened as the room around her started to spin.

“I’m gonna be sick,” she managed to say, before she lurched forward, vomiting into the sick bowl that Tate just about grabbed for her in time.

* * *

 

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m fine,  _ really _ . You don’t need to come.”

“They told me you had to be resuscitated at the scene. You’d stopped breathing.”

“Well I’m breathing now and I’m awake.” Nicole held the phone awkwardly to her ear, struggling to hear Shae’s voice over the persistent ringing that hadn’t faded, but trying not to push the phone close enough to catch the steri-stripped gash on her head.

“Look Nicole, the last thing I want to do is intrude on your life and go where I’m not wanted, but-”

“It’s not like that,” Nicole assured her. “I appreciate the concern. I do. But I’m telling you that I’m… ok. Or I will be.” She paused, glancing over at Nedley and Tate stood just outside, doing their best to pretend that they couldn’t hear her conversation. “Doctors did some scans of my head and there’s no serious damage. And… I’ve got people here. I’m not alone. There’s no point in coming out all this way.”

Shae sighed heavily. “Ok,” she conceded. She didn’t sound at all convinced. 

“I promise to keep you posted.”

“Be sure you do. And if you change your mind-”

“I’ll call. I promise.”

“Right. Well. You’d better put that phone down and start resting. And be sure you actually do rest.”

“I will.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks Shae.”

“Please… please take care of yourself Nicole.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Nicole ended the call and let her arm drop down to her side. She couldn’t quite believe how exhausting the short conversation had been. Nedley plodded slowly back into the room. He didn’t ask how the call had gone. Nicole was somewhat grateful for that.

“Sir, any news about Wynonna?” she asked hazily, hearing the slow drawl of her own voice. She felt another bout of pressure in her head and slight giddiness and wondered if she looked and sounded as coherent as she felt.

Nedley shook his head grimly. “The team is combing the site where we found you and I’ve got eyes and ears on look out across town. You’ll be first to know if…  _ when _ we find something.”

_No I won’t_ , Nicole thought. _Waverly will. And if they don’t find something soon then chances are Wynonna’s going to be the fourth victim._ _Waverly will never forgive me_.

It was selfish, she knew, to be thinking like that. To be even the slightest bit concerned for herself when Wynonna could be being slaughtered as they spoke. She shuddered and took a deep breath. She felt helpless. Useless. She felt like she must have  _ been _ useless. They think she fought back. So what? If she’d fought harder then maybe Wynonna would be safe right now. Maybe she could have brought this psychopath to justice. Maybe it was her fighting that made this monster leave her behind in the dirt. Maybe she could have cooperated and surrendered, and maybe Wynonna wouldn’t have been alone at least. 

It was impossibly frustrating, just laying there unable to do anything to help, but it was nothing compared with the torture of not remembering. She had been there. She must have seen the killer -  _ fought _ the killer. She must have seen which direction he took Wynonna. And what use was she now? None. She’d clearly been no help to Wynonna during the attack and she was no help to her now, her memory of the event a fragmented jumble of confusing images through a thick and hazy fog.

Clearly she was telegraphing her tormented thoughts more than she meant to, because Nedley’s brow furrowed with concern and he sighed sadly. 

“Why don’t you get some rest, Nicole.”

Nicole nodded, lacking the energy to object. She rested her head back on the pillow and gazed up at the ceiling. Nedley  shuffled out of the room, muttering something to Tate in the hallway, but she wasn’t listening. She was staring at the ceiling tiles, absorbing every detail she could about the size, the shape, the shadows, praying that if she closed her eyes and let herself sleep she’d still be in the hospital room when she woke up.

* * *

 

She dreamt of the woods. Spinning and swirling. Leaves and twigs snapping underfoot, but it wasn’t  _ her  _ foot. She was floating - no, she was being carried. Somehow she could see the woods but at the same time she couldn’t see anything. She cried out, trying to push away from the person that carried her, but her arms and legs wouldn’t move.

And then there was a face, a horrifying monster of a face, eyes burning with fire. She woke up.

It took a moment to blink away the blurriness from her eyes, but she tried to calm her pulse as she realised she was in the hospital room still. The ringing in her ears was still there, but she could hear the gentle thrum of the hospital just outside the door, as well as familiar voices locked in a heated discussion. She eased herself more upright on her pillow, cursing under her breath as it sent a shockwave of pain across her ribs and her chest. She looked to the doorway where Nedley was standing guard and blocking someone from entering. It looked like Deputy Marshall Dolls. 

_ I guess he’s back from his disappearing act _ , she thought. She blinked and remembered standing beside her car outside the Earp house, talking to Wynonna. “My boss isn’t here,” she had said. Wynonna was going to tell her about the BBD, about the weird cases in Purgatory. Had she dreamt that? Was it real?

“I know Deputy Earp is still out there, and we'll continue the search, but we agreed my Officer…”

“Is our only witness. I need to question her before her memory becomes more clouded than it is.” Nicole was unsurprised to hear Dolls’ straight-to-the-point attitude towards the situation, but for once it was a welcome approach. She didn’t want people leaving her out of the loop. Not if there was even the faintest chance she could help.

“I'd feel more comfortable with a greenlight from her doctor,” Nedley grumbled.

She called out, her voice still weaker and hazier than she wanted it to be. “Sheriff.” He turned to face her and she saw Dolls and John Henry stood in the hall behind him… and someone else? She couldn’t quite see. “I'm good. OK? I want to help.”

He sighed his usual disapproving sigh and stepped back into the room, fidgeting with his hat the way he so often did when he was bothered by something. “Well, I'll swing by and make sure that cat of yours is fed,” he said. She half smiled, grateful that he hadn’t insisted she stay out of it any further.

“She doesn't really like men” she said, imagining the clawing that Calamity Jane was likely to give him if he got too close.

“Well, who does?” Nedley replied. Nicole huffed an almost-laugh as he left the room. 

Dolls stepped forward, notepad in hand. She took a deep breath.

“OK. So what was the last thing you saw?”

“Waverly Earp, smiling at me from her front porch.” It was true and it was vivid, one of the only memories that was. She could still pick out almost every tiny detail from that moment, but she was suddenly aware of  _ the look _ Dolls was giving her and the fact that the third person lingering in the doorway was Waverly herself. Nicole swallowed hurriedly, feeling a rush of blood to her cheeks and quickly cast her eyes away and added, “And, uh, a man stepping out on the highway. Flagging us down.”

She had been trying to remember him in more detail. Tried to recall what he had been wearing, or if she got a closer look, but it was a fog. It was like trying to remember a dream that was rapidly disappearing out of reach. She was left with random images and disconnected facts that didn’t match up with particular moments. She remembered being in the car with Wynonna and remembered that there had been a man at the roadside up ahead, but she had no picture to go with it.

“Description?”

“No,” she sighed. “Just a blank space after that.”

Dolls sighed frustratedly and lowered his notepad. She knew it was useless information. She knew it was no help. They already knew that someone had attacked the car and abducted Wynonna and nothing Nicole had offered provided any further insight. 

She gazed ahead vacantly as the images from her dream came back into her mind. Not a dream. A memory. She remembered the woods.

“Until the woods,” she murmured.

“What happened?”

She remembered the sensation of movement, the cracking of the twigs under someone’s feet. She remembered the shadowy darkness and the pressure against her eyes. “Somebody was carrying me. I was blindfolded, I think.” No, that didn’t seem right. She remembered the sickening swirl of the shadows. “...Or just really drugged.” 

She swallowed, pushing through the pressure she felt in her head and the tears that the memories were triggering. What had happened after that? She didn’t know. It was like someone had skipped to the next chapter. “Next thing I know I'm freezing cold, covered in dirt in a ditch the side of the road.”

In a ditch. Dying. Resuscitated because she’d stopped breathing. Dead.

“What about Wynonna?” Dolls pressed on. “Do you remember anything about Wynonna?”

“No. I couldn't see anything.” She scowled in frustration, despite the pain in her forehead.

“Sight ain't your only sense, Ms. Haught.” 

She looked up at John Henry as Dolls stepped aside to let him approach the bed. Behind him Nicole could see Waverly listening at the doorway, concern etched across her face. Her arm was in a sling. Was that from the attack at the house? Was she badly injured? Nicole felt the sting of guilt for getting distracted for even a second from the subject at hand: Wynonna’s abduction. Of course Waverly was concerned. Her big sister had been taken by a serial killer and she, like Dolls, had likely been banking on getting something useful from the witness to the attack. Nicole took a deep breath, determined to remember something useful.

“What did he smell like?” Henry asked. Nicole blinked and tried to conjure anything in her mind. “Close your eyes,” Henry said softly. “Take a deep breath in, let the memories come.”

Nicole did as instructed. She let her eyelids close gently and took herself back to her dream, her memory of being carried through the woods. The woods that smelled like leaves and dirt, where the cold air cut into her lungs as she breathed. And then there it was, the sensation of a warm breath on her face - not at all comforting, but sickening and terrifying. She was too close to the attacker and - yes, she could smell him.

“Sour,” she said distantly, opening her eyes again “Musty.”

“Like death?” Dolls offered.

She thought of it compared to the smell in the morgue. “No. Spoiled fruit. And gasoline.”

She blinked again, new images, new memories flashing across her eyes. Pain. Pain in her chest. She was falling or she had been thrown down. A sharp spike of pain across her sternum.

“He kicked me,” she murmured. 

“What?”

She remembered more, remembered being cast aside and kicked - she remembered the agony of the boot on her chest, knocking the wind from her entirely. The killer had said something. Something about why he left her behind.

“See, I couldn't figure out why my chest was hurting. He threw me down and he said "You're the wrong kind”.”

Dolls began pacing the room anxiously, chanting the words like a mantra. “You're the wrong kind. You're the wrong kind. You're the wrong kind. Uh…” he tapped his pen against his notepad, hesitating only momentarily before continuing with his theory. “Serial killers, they, um, often have a type of victim that they prefer.”

Nicole thought of Joyce Arbour. She thought of the other two victims, who she was pretty sure were both young female brunettes. This bastard had a type alright. Nicole clearly wasn’t it. She’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just in the way. An unfortunate bystander that this asshole hadn’t even cared enough to finish off.

“And Wynonna?” Waverly asked from the doorway, her voice laced with panic.

“Must be exactly what Jack's looking for,” Dolls replied darkly.

Wynonna had been the target and Nicole had failed to protect her. She felt sick, her heavy heart beat making the wounds across her body throb painfully. She looked to Waverly and to the horror emerging on the young Earp’s face.

“Waverly, I'm so sorry,” she tried, swallowing the tearful lump in her throat.

“No, it's fine,” Waverly insisted unconvincingly as her own tears started to fall. “I'm just glad you're OK.” With that she sped out of sight down the hall.

Dolls followed her out and Henry sighed and shot Nicole a pitying look. She wasn’t sure she deserved his pity. Wynonna was at the mercy of a sadistic serial killer. She could well be dead already. Nicole had been the only one with the chance to stop this maniac and she’d managed to do nothing except take a beating and then forget all about it. She clenched her teeth and sighed again as Henry tipped his hat and left.

She couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer. She wept openly to the empty room. Whether Waverly was genuinely glad or not that Nicole was ok was almost irrelevant. Nicole didn’t feel ok, nor did she feel like she deserved to be. What if she’d followed procedures properly last night? There would have been more officers on scene and maybe she and Wynonna would have never been alone in the car together out on the highway. What if she’d fought harder during the attack? Would she have been killed outright, or would they be celebrating the fact that they were both safe?

And worst of all it was impossible to know what she could have or should have done differently, because she couldn’t remember what she actually  _ had _ done. It was a useless, foggy blur and the result was that she was alive and Wynonna was gone. How could Waverly possibly be glad that she was ok?  _ Nicole _ wasn’t even glad that she was ok. She wasn’t even sure that ‘ok’ was the word. She was alive and safe, but she was sure that Waverly would have much preferred that her sister had been the one found in the woods, rather than missing, possibly dead.

Over her own sobs she could hear Waverly crying down the hallway, every agonised wail cutting through Nicole’s heart like a knife.

* * *

 

Nicole tried to sleep. She was only managing an hour or two at a time, before the same flashes of the woods and monstrous, fiery faces woke her up. 

The doctors had ordered more brain scans to check her over and reported again and again that there was no serious injury. She wished she felt like it was good news. Somehow it felt like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. 

Tate came back in to keep her company for a while, offering to pick her up something to read from the visitor’s shop and saying that he’d be sure to fetch her phone from her squad car when he got the chance. She wanted to feel grateful for the kindness, but mostly she just felt numb.

The doctors explained their theory that her head injury had come from some kind of solid weapon, like a bat or a stick. They told her she was lucky that she hadn’t broken her hand when she had punched the attacker. She found the word ‘lucky’ more offensive than comforting.

Phelps and Stevens dropped by at one point, bringing a bunch of flowers. Nobody mentioned Wynonna. Nicole didn’t ask. If there had been any good news then someone would have told her.

The nurse increased her medication when the pain in her side felt like it was getting worse. She fell into a slightly deeper sleep and couldn’t remember any dreams when she woke up a few hours later. She wasn’t sure if that was worse than the nightmares.

She didn’t know what time it was when there was a gentle knock at her door. She turned, startled, to see John Henry stood there, politely removing the hat from his head.

“My apologies, Ms Haught. I did not mean to frighten you,” he said sincerely. “I assumed you would appreciate being informed immediately that Wynonna has been found.”

Nicole sat bolt upright, her ribs not thanking her for it, but she didn’t care. The pause lasted a lifetime.

“She is alive and, physically at least, she is ok.”

Nicole’s heart was racing. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She didn’t quite know what she was feeling. 

“Did he hurt her? Did they catch him?” She asked urgently.

“Jack of Knives won’t be hurting anyone else ever again,” Henry said firmly, an edge to his tone suggesting that for him, the victory was personal.

Nicole closed her eyes, tears flowing freely. She didn’t know how sick she’d felt until the weight on her stomach lifted. The killer had been caught. Wynonna was safe and the bastard that had attacked them both would never do it again. Henry let her cry, standing by without any hint of irritation or impatience. She was grateful for that. 

“Jack of Knives?” she asked eventually.

Henry sighed. “He has been conducting his evil affairs longer than bears thinking about. In his earlier days he felt inclined to make his presence better known in certain parts and choose a name for himself. Seems to me the best thing we can all do now is to forget it. Bury the name in the ground with him.”

“Did you lose someone to him?” Nicole asked carefully. 

Henry placed his hat wordlessly back on his head with a sad smile.

“Never again, Ms Haught,” he said finally. He tipped his hat politely and left.


	13. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 1x08, but pre 1x09. The timeline of Nicole's recovery after the Jack of Knives incident has always seemed remarkably fast to me, so this chapter takes place in the week or two that MUST have passed before Wynonna's bender at Shorty's (/ Pussy Willows).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD. 
> 
> This chapter. This chapter took an age. I don't even have a decent reason why, it was just a case of repeated writer's block every few paragraphs. I hope it doesn't feel too disjointed as a result!
> 
> Huge thanks to @FahRENheit2006 for feedback and moral support throughout this one!

Naps in the middle of the day were not Nicole's thing. Generally, she found them disorienting and avoided them at all costs. However, seeing as disoriented was the current default setting for her condition, today she was making an exception. Realistically, she couldn't have avoided it even if she wanted to. Whether it was the drugs or the continued effects of her ordeal, naps were taking sideswipes at her consciousness all day. The first hint she’d have that she was falling asleep was when she’d wake up at least half an hour later. Obviously she needed the rest. It was just a pity it came with nightmares.

Almost every time she closed her eyes she returned to that spinning world of shadows and and trees and snow. She felt the same paralysed helplessness as she was carried away by a murderer and smelled the same musty smell of spoiled fruit and gasoline. She wasn’t sure she’d ever manage to stand in a gas station again.

The only positive thing was that with the nightmares came more memories. More blurry and confusing images that gradually evolved into more coherent recollections of what had happened. She remembered that there had been a second attacker - that he had kicked her in the chest. A brief check-in from Nedley during the hospital’s morning visiting hours revealed that the second person had been Dr Reggie from the morgue. Her stomach had turned at the news. Or maybe that was the concussion.

The doctors had told her yesterday that her concussion symptoms may include nausea, vomiting, headaches, amnesia, confusion, dizziness, and more. Nicole thought the explanation was somewhat redundant as she was experiencing every single one already. This was still an improvement on dead, which had evidently been her previous condition. Some twelve hours later and she was at least starting to feel a bit more human. This could have had something to do with the napping, the painkillers or Henry’s late-night visit with the news of Wynonna’s return to safety. She had to admit, the morning had felt just a bit brighter without the weight of the missing Earp bearing down. She’d heard that Wynonna had been brought into the hospital to deal with minor injuries. Part of her had been hoping that she might have swung by Nicole’s room before leaving.

She didn’t. Which was a whole new set of questions to obsess over.

Was she angry at Nicole for not doing more during the attack? For not doing her job as a cop to protect her? Or did she simply not care as to whether or not Nicole was ok? Nedley had been no help when she’d tried to ask him questions about Wynonna or what had happened, insisting that none of the answers would help her better rest. On the one hand it was nice to have someone looking over her like that, caring for her wellbeing. On the other, it was frustrating as hell. Yet more unanswered questions and being deliberately kept out of the loop; par for the course by this point. She had been hoping that maybe Wynonna would be able to shed some light on the events of the attack, and fill in the blanks in Nicole’s memory. With her daytime naps and traumatic flashbacks at least this didn’t look like it would stay a permanent problem.

She blinked awake from her latest unexpected slumber, drenched in cold sweat and heart racing. She hadn’t been in the woods that time. She’d been on the road. Stood at the side of her car, aiming her gun at a tall, slender figure approaching with inhuman speed and eyes that burned like fire. She could still smell that musty scent and her hand twitched at the memory of something slicing through her baretta like a hot knife through butter. 

She lifted her bandaged hand, inspecting the deep maroon stain from the wound beneath. They’d told her it was a laceration. She’d not really thought about how she’d got it, assuming that she’d cut it on a rock or branch in the woods.

It was the first memory she’d gotten back of the attack that wasn’t in the woods. Sure, it seemed like it had been jumbled up with some nightmarish exaggerations from her subconscious, but it was a start. Hopefully she’d stop seeing images of the phantom attacker with glowing eyes, and start remembering the facts instead.

She blinked again and pushed herself up gingerly in her bed with a wince. The ache across her ribs was in full swing now and every breath was excruciating. The doctors had put her on some pretty hefty painkillers, but the injuries still felt fresh. Nicole dreaded to think what it would feel like without a comfy cushion of drugs.

She looked around the room. The nurses had been in again while she slept; they’d taken away her uneaten lunch tray and left a refilled jug of water and a daisy in a mason jar. An odd choice of vase for a hospital, Nicole thought, but she appreciated it all the same. It was sweet and unusual.

She managed to pour a bit of the water into the empty cup on her bedside unit and gulped it back. She awkwardly reached back over to return it to the unit and laid back on her pillows again, frustratingly exhausted from the effort. As the cool water made its way down into her stomach she shivered. 

And then she was back in the woods, crawling through the dirt and the snow to the roadside, her fingers numb and the icy air biting at her lungs.

She gasped, causing another round of pain across her chest as the flashback hit out of nowhere. She tried to calm her pulse down again, scrunching her eyes closed and clinging to the rail at the side of her bed for support.

_ You’re not in the woods, Haught _ , she told herself.  _ It’s over. You’re safe. _

“This a bad time?” came a voice from the doorway.

She opened her eyes to see Tate entering the room, removing his stetson from his head, small duffel bag in his other hand. She blinked rapidly, trying to disappear the tears that had been forming in her eyes.

“No. No, I just woke up,” she said, letting go of the rail and forcing a kind of smile onto her face.

“How you doing?” Tate asked, approaching the bed and putting the bag down on the visitor’s chair. “Sheriff said you were looking a bit better.”

“He did, did he?”

“Yeah. Not sure I’d agree with that, but hey, I’m no doctor.”

Nicole smirked grimly. She knew she looked a shocking sight. In the last day her skin had broken out in a technicolour of bruising, everywhere from her head to her legs, her arms to her throat. She was lucky enough not to have been treated to a run-in with a mirror since the worst of it had emerged, but she had a vivid enough imagination not to need one. Still, it probably looked worse than it felt. Probably.

“So what brings you to the Oakley ward on this fine day?” Nicole asked, eyeing up the duffel bag.

“We figured you’d appreciate a few of your own things while you’re here,” Tate shrugged.

“We?”

“Sheriff fished your cellphone out of your car and grabbed a few things from your home when he was seeing to your cat.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow. She regretted it instantly as the cut on her head flexed with a sharp spike of pain.

“Well,” Tate shrugged again, “His daughter went with him anyhow. Apparently he was worried your cat would scratch his eyes out. Chrissy grabbed you a couple of changes of clothes and a phone charger.”

“Tell her thanks,” Nicole said vaguely. 

It seemed like some kind of crazy dream that all this had started with Nicole at the Earp homestead, taking Chrissy’s statement about the attack on the house. It hadn’t even occurred to her until now that during the time that both she and Wynonna had been missing, Chrissy would have had to bear the weight of being the last person to speak to them. She wondered if she’d been interrogated by Dolls as well.

“You need anything from the visitor's shop?” Tate asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Magazine to read, snacks?”

Nicole shook her head. “No, but thank you. And thank you for bringing my stuff.” She looked over at the bag. “Any chance you could put my phone on charge for me?” She asked, cringing at the thought of trying to reach around to the power socket herself.

“Sure thing.” Tate pulled her phone and the charger from the bag, plugging it in and resting it on the side unit next to the water and the daisy.

He jammed his hands awkwardly into his pockets. “Well listen, you need anything you just give one of us a call, ok?” he said. “I gotta run for now, technically this ain’t visiting hours so the nurses’ll have my ass if I stay much longer.”

“It’s ok, you go. Honestly I’m probably gonna fall asleep again pretty soon,” Nicole admitted, feeling the familiar fog descend on her head. 

Tate nodded and returned his hat to his head. “You feel better now, y’hear?”

“Miss me at the station do ya?” Nicole smiled cheekily.

“Well who else is gonna make coffee every twenty minutes?” 

“Good to know I’m appreciated.”

“Rest up Haught.”

Nicole waved as Tate left the room. She lay in silence for a little while staring at the ceiling, trying to organise the memories in her head. 

She jumped at the sound of her phone starting to buzz as it burst into life with a string of notifications. Cursing her jittery nerves, she reached up and collected it from the side unit, looking at the list of missed calls and texts that her newly awoken phone was now compiling.

Several dozen missed calls from Nedley, several dozen more from fellow officers and unrecognised numbers that she assumed were all people who had been involved in the search for her. There were a few voicemails too. She decided to listen to them later, figuring that they’d likely all say the same kind of thing.

An unexpected revelation from this experience was that Nicole wasn’t as much of an unwanted outsider as she had previously thought. It turned out that people in town actually did care about her, in perhaps more than just an obligatory human decency sort of way. A line of get well soon cards was starting to form on the window sill of her hospital room, Nedley having delivered them that morning. Most of her colleagues from the precinct had signed their name somewhere in the three separate cards that had evidently done the rounds of the municipal building. 

But there were also names and well wishes from a few other folks in town - people Nicole saw regularly on her routine patrols, or who she had started to build rapport with by frequenting their local business. Nicole hadn't even known how to feel when Nedley had handed her the pastel-coloured envelopes. It was a gesture that she hadn't realised how much she needed. Now more than ever, it was nice to not feel quite so alone.

Nicole woke up, having once again succumbed to the delirium and fallen asleep without noticing. The dry feeling in her throat told her it had been a longer nap this time. Her eyelids drooped drowsily for a few minutes before she realised someone was sat in the chair beside her bed. Nedley was reading a newspaper, sipping a coffee. 

“Sheriff,” Nicole said lazily, her voice drawing a little like she'd had a few drinks. 

Nedley looked up as she spoke, his usually gruff expression softening just a little. 

“How’re you doing there Haught. Good to see you're getting some decent shut eye.”

“What time is it? How long was I asleep?”

“Couldn't say. You were out when I got here, so a good while I'd wager. It's just after three.”

All sense of time had been momentarily suspended in Nicole’s head these past two days. If it wasn't for the window she wouldn't even be able to tell if it was daytime or the middle of the night. Not that it mattered. It wasn't like there was anywhere she needed to be, and she wasn't even awake for most of it. 

“Any word from Dolls?”

She asked in the vain hope that Nedley’s answer would be different than it had been that morning. He gave her a reproachful look. He knew what she was really asking. She wanted confirmation that the attacker was the serial killer - this ‘Jack of Knives’. That the man… the  _ men  _ responsible for mutilating Joyce Arbour and those other girls was dead. 

This theory was still officially just speculation. The case had already been claimed by the BBD, so the Sheriff's department had officially passed the point of making legitimate enquiries for info. Nicole knew this all too well, but was ready to fight to bend the rules just once on the grounds of being personally involved in the situation. Dolls would no doubt refuse on the basis of ‘classified intel’. Nedley had refused that morning on the basis of not making Nicole feel worse. 

Nicole thought nothing would be worse than the news that the sadistic monster that killed those women wasn't her attacker, and was still on the loose. The fact that nobody would confirm it made her feel sick with worry. 

“Nothing has changed Nicole, it's a Black Badge case and you shouldn't be worrying yourself with any of that right now anyway.”

Nicole sighed heavily. Then she regretted it, the pain in her chest seeming to agree with Nedley. The Sheriff's stern expression softened a little at her wince of pain. 

“Have the doctors said anything else about your injuries or recovery plan?” he asked a little awkwardly, clearly looking for something to change the subject. 

Nicole blinked through the wave of pain across her body and tried to think about the last time she'd seen a doctor do their rounds.

“I don't think there's anything unexpected about my injuries at least,” she replied, Nedley seemingly comforted by the news. “But I think I remember how I hurt my hand.”

Nedley’s eyes narrowed and his face creased into a expression Nicole couldn't place. 

“The attacker… He cut through my gun like it was nothing. Sliced it to pieces in my hand, like he had some sort of hot knife.” She thought of Dr Reggie’s reference to ‘lightsabre hot’, but it was Wynonna's term that she chose to repeat. “Like hellfire hot.”

Nedley cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Right, well anything else about your recovery I should know? We should figure out how much leave you'll need to get back to full health.”

Nicole frowned, unsure why Nedley was being so cagey about her most recently acquired memory. 

“Sir, was a lightsabre-hot weapon found with the attacker at all?” she pressed. 

“Listen here Deputy Haught, don't you go and make me reprimand you for trying to break jurisdictional protocol from a hospital bed,” he said waggling his index finger warningly. “The case belongs to Black Badge. You're better off just clearing it out of your head.” 

Nicole nodded very slightly and decided to drop the subject for now. Perhaps it would be a better conversation to have with Wynonna when she did eventually cross paths with her.  _ If  _ she ever did. 

Nedley fiddled with the brim of his hat again. The silence was several different kinds of awkward. 

“So I hope Calamity Jane hasn't been giving you too much trouble?” Nicole said eventually. 

Nedley’s relief was palpable. His shoulders slackened as he relaxed a little. “Well she’s not as friendly as a dog mighta been, but she let me pet her eventually. I guess I can cope with checking in on her while you're mending.”

“You should feel honoured,” Nicole said, managing an almost-smile. “She hardly goes near anyone else.”

“Well, I figure the cat just knows what's good for her,” Nedley said dismissively. “Knows where her next meal ticket is coming from.”

Nicole pretended not to see the pleased expression on the man's face as he turned away.

* * *

 

Time passing in the hospital couldn’t seem to make up its mind about whether to crawl at a snail’s pace or speed by so fast it seemed like the day was skipping hours altogether. The fogginess and disorientation seemed to have taken up long-term residence in Nicole’s head, alongside the worst and most persistent headache she could ever remember having. The doctors increased her painkillers when she told them how she was feeling and the pain subsided a little, but the fogginess got worse and suddenly she was sleeping again. Sleep that was momentarily comfortable, but all-too-quickly made way for another nightmare, or memory, or both.

It went on like this - this hellish cycle of pain and fog followed by unconsciousness and terror - for hours. Every time Nicole opened her eyes she was met with a new wave of pain eased only by the relief at having clawed back another slither of a memory.

The flashback most frequently appearing in her dreams was the recently uncovered one of the attacker speeding towards her impossibly fast, slicing her handgun to pieces with a lunge of his hand. But before that she’d shot him. She’d relived it enough times now to be sure, each time clearer than the last. She’d put four bullets between his shoulder blades as he lifted Wynonna by the throat like she weighed nothing. And he’d barely noticed.

And then he’d sped around the front of the car at superhuman speed, his eyes bright and glowing. One quick swipe and Nicole’s baretta had fallen apart as she held it and her hand was on fire.

In her waking moments, Nicole replayed the memory again and again, trying to look past the glowing eyes and the bullet-proof back. Because surely, if she looked hard enough, she’d see the reality that she ought to remember instead. Because it couldn’t be real. His eyes couldn’t have burned like a furnace and he couldn’t have taken four shots to the back without a flinch.

Because that was impossible.

_ Maybe there’s permanent brain damage _ , she thought to herself as she awoke again in the small hours of the morning, drenched in sweat with the memory of her latest flashback to the highway fresh in her mind. 

_ Or maybe there’s a simpler, weirder explanation _ , said a small portion of her brain.  _ Maybe you  _ **_actually_ ** _ saw what you think you saw.  _

No. Nope. Just no. Even if that was possible, which it wasn’t, she was not even slightly prepared right now to process it. And it was crazy anyway. And insane. And not possible. And yet...

She couldn’t unsee the burning red eyes. They were there every time she started to drift off. Her eyes ached as she stared at the ceiling tiles in the darkness of the hospital room. It wa the middle of the night and she was exhausted. She knew she should sleep, but with the images of the woods and the highway running through her mind again and again, she needed a reprieve of consciousness in which to recover. 

“Well you look like hell,” said a voice from the doorway, setting Nicole’s pulse racing with alarm.

She looked over and saw a familiar brunette silhouetted in the doorway, bottle in hand. It only took another moment for the smell of whiskey to reach Nicole’s bed.

“Wynonna?”

The Earp ambled over the threshold of the door, into the dim shafts of light from the street lamp outside the window. 

Henry had said she'd been physically unharmed, but Nicole spotted the limp instantly. She also spotted that ‘physically unharmed’ was an artful way of saying ‘mentally broken’. 

Wynonna was a mess. 

Her eyes were sunken and her gaze distant. The bottle wasn't a surprise, but she held it like a lifeline - something to depend upon, not enjoy. She was pale and looked barely able to stand, her usual presence of attitude completely absent. Haunted. The word was haunted, and Nicole could spot it a mile away because she had had a taste of it herself. That said, she may have paddled in the haunted pool but Wynonna had clearly just crawled out of the deep end. 

“I'm glad you're alive,” Wynonna declared, a little robotically. 

“You too,” Nicole replied, at a loss for what else to say. Wynonna scoffed  a faint laugh. 

The silence wasn't comfortable and it lasted longer than either of them would probably have preferred. 

But what else could they say? 

“Dolls said you didn't remember much,” Wynonna announced eventually. It wasn't a question. Still, Nicole felt the impulse to explain herself. To explain why she hadn't been more help. 

“I woke up in the woods. Everything in my head was a mess. Most of it gone.”

“Yeah well,” Wynonna said, wringing the neck of the bottle absent mindedly with both hands. “It's possible you're better off.” Her voice slurred with the weight of whiskey behind it. 

“Some of it has come back,” Nicole replied. She thought of the attacker's glowing eyes, and superhuman movements. Did Wynonna remember? Had Wynonna seen it? It could be the reason for the haunted look behind her eyes, or it could simply be a sign that Nicole had hit her head too hard?

“Nobody is able to really say what happened,” she continued quietly. “All anyone seems to have are best guesses.” These too were statements rather than questions, but Nicole let them hang in the air between them, the implication clear. 

Wynonna swallowed hard. 

“We were on the highway. You pulled up to give a ride to a hitchhiker. Ass hole blindsided you with a cane through your window.”

She spoke evenly and without pause, like she was reading it from a script. Like she hadn't been there experiencing it first hand. Like she didn't feel anything about it. 

Nicole reached up to the cut on her head. A cane. Did she remember seeing a cane? The man on the highway must have been holding it. If she had seen it as she pulled up would she have assessed it as a potential weapon? Would she have been prepared for an attack? 

“I tried to shoot him, but I uh…” Wynonna paused uncomfortably. “... I missed. He hauled me out of the car and-”

“And I shot him,” Nicole interjected. She locked eyes with Wynonna, clear and focused for the first time in days. The memory was there and it was clear, and she knew now without a shadow of a doubt that what she remembered was real. “I shot him four times at point blank range and it didn't even slow him down.”

Wynonna dropped her gaze, her knuckles white on the bottleneck. “I guess he must've been wearing a vest,” she mumbled. 

“Wynonna, he attacked us,” Nicole said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “He beat me, drugged me, and left me to die in the woods.” A lump started to form in her throat and she felt her eyes burn. “I did… I  _ did  _ die.  _ You _ could have died. Give me something here. You said you'd help me understand.”

Wynonna still couldn't meet her gaze but she heaved an almighty sigh, somewhat defeated, it seemed. The pause felt like a lifetime. When she spoke it was slow and deliberate, like it was the most important thing in the world that Nicole really listen to every word. 

“You shot him and he doubled back and took you down.” She looked up. “He must have been wearing a vest. It's not like I stopped to check his undergarments.”

“Bullshit, Earp,” Nicole hissed. “When we got in that car you were ready to talk. What's changed?”

The defeat left Wynonna's eyes in an instant and was replaced with something else. Anger? Rage? Her eyes narrowed. 

“What changed is I watched a maniac nearly kill you.” Wynonna's eyes looked dark and hollow. Like she wasn't looking at Nicole anymore, but seeing right through her. “And then Jack of Knives and his sidekick Reggie drugged me, paralysed me and stuck me in the hospital ward from hell. And I lay there, unable to move while that psycho wheeled another girl into the next room so his master could play doctor like he did with Joyce Arbour.”

Nicole felt her heart start to spin again, her heart rate elevating. Jack of Knives. A weight formed in her stomach at mention of the name. The weight of everything she couldn’t remember, the weight of having been so helpless as Wynonna lay captive and the weight of having not even begun to join the dots in Joyce Arbour’s murder enough to prevent all if this to begin with. 

They had both been stood in that morgue alongside Dr Reggie. They looked down at Joyce Arbour with no idea what had happened, while the accomplice to her horrific murder chewed on a Twizzler beside them. Nedley had said that Reggie had been found dead along with the serial killer, this ‘Jack of knives’. Nicole thought that maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. 

But apparently they'd got in one last victim before the end. Another girl that Wynonna had to watch being taken away to her death. The thought made Nicole's stomach turn and suddenly it seemed a miracle that Wynonna was even stood upright. 

Wynonna took another, slightly sloppier swig from the bottle.

“So you died and it didn’t take,” she slurred. “How about instead of crying over classified information, you just lick your wounds and be grateful Jack didn’t add redheads to his shit list.”

With that she was gone. Nicole didn't call after her.

* * *

 

By day four of her stay in hospital, Nicole was starting to get a little cabin feverish. She'd been there long enough now that her room was even taking on the look of having a long-term occupant. Her things were arranged around her in places that had been established enough to be their ‘usual spot’, and Nicole had even caught herself saying “Oh, that just lives on the chair” to a nurse that had moved her jacket the day before. And the volume of her own belongings was growing. 

Tate and Nedley had been by a few more times, dropping off spare changes of clothes, books to read, snacks, more flowers from colleagues, and delivering enthusiastic reports on the wellbeing of her cat. The daisy mason jar had several new additions, the nurses seeming to add more a couple of times a day, and a few more ‘get well soon’ cards had made their way to her windowsill too. These were from other townsfolk that had gotten wind of the attack, one from Shae and one from Justine who had given her a lengthy speech about communication down the phone when Nicole had finally remembered to inform her of what had happened. There was no further word from Wynonna, but then Nicole hadn’t expected there to be. One shared bottle of whiskey and a serial killer attack didn’t make them besties, after all.

But there had also been no sight nor sound from Waverly. For four days. Not a word.

Nicole stared up at the now-very-familiar ceiling tiles and sighed. On top of every other thought swirling its way around inside of Nicole’s head, she also felt stupid for being so surprised by this. Why  _ should  _ Waverly have sent a card? Why  _ should _ she have come visit? Nicole was the woman who survived when it seemed like Wynonna was likely to be dead. Nicole was the woman who couldn’t remember anything about the attack and who had been all but useless while they desperately searched for the missing Earp.

And they weren't really friends. 

They'd shared passing conversation, one ten minute coffee break and brief glances. Nothing more. And yet, for some reason she had allowed herself to hope. For some utterly  _ illogical _ reason, it felt like she and Waverly had….  _ Something _ . A connection? The  _ potential _ for friendship maybe? 

Whatever friendship they may have been heading towards, the four day silence after what had happened seemed to speak volumes. Waverly was the sort of person who would go out of her way to help people she didn’t even know cross the street. If she hadn’t come by, then it was probably a conscious decision not to. They weren’t friends before and they certainly weren’t friends now. Maybe she was angry or disappointed with Nicole for not being more help, or failing to protect her sister. Maybe it was something else. 

Nicole’s mind began to wander.  _ Would Waverly have come to visit if I had died _ ? Would she have stayed away for four days if she’d been visiting a grave instead of a hospital bed?

And then it hit her her like a ten-tonne truck all over again. She  _ had _ died. Maybe only for a moment, but she had stopped breathing. They had brought her back.  _ Back _ Because she’d been gone. For a moment she was gone.

And she didn’t know where.

She felt her heart racing as the whirlpool of memories flooded through her head again, fuzzy and disjointed. She scrunched up her face and clamped her eyes shut. She had no memory of it. She didn’t remember going towards a light or hearing heavenly choirs - or even falling into the burning pit of hell. There was just nothing. An empty space.

Maybe it was because she  _ knew _ she’d been gone, but it felt like more than just being unconscious. More than just a dreamless sleep. They’d pulled her back from nothingness. For a few minutes, Nicole Haught had ceased to be.

She knew she was hyperventilating now, but it didn’t matter. Her chest tightened painfully. Her fingertips tingled and she could hear her heart beating in her ears, along with the sound of roaring wind. It was too much. It felt like too much - the sensation of panic, the inability to breathe, the agony in her ribs and her arms. It was too much and at the same time it was comforting. Like she’d rather feel everything than nothing.

She was dimly aware of a nurse coming in. He said something but Nicole didn’t hear him. Couldn’t hear him. Then there was more of them. Too many of them. It was suffocating. 

Nicole tried to push past the first nurse to climb out of her bed, her vision starting to swim a little at the edges. The rational part of her knew this was because of her breathing. She wasn’t breathing right and it was messing with her head. The less rational part panicked further. She remembered this feeling before. At the roadside by the woods. Right before she’d blacked out. Before she went away and had to be brought back to life.

The thought made her head swim even more.

It took a good twenty minutes for the panic attack to run its course. The nurse managed to convince her to stay in her bed and by the time it had passed Nicole was exhausted and in agony all over again from tensing every muscle she had. With the aid of another round of painkillers, it wasn’t long before she was asleep again. 

Yet another unwanted nap.

* * *

 

“I think that’s probably everything for now, Chrissy,” Nicole said to the girl stood in front of her. “If you think of anything else then make sure you call me.”

Chrissy Nedley nodded and headed back towards the Earp house where Waverly had emerged onto the porch, wrapped in a blanket. Waverly was watching Nicole with an intense expression. Like she was waiting. Like something was about to happen.

“So? Any idea why my homestead was targeted?” Wynonna was stood beside her, arms folded and eyes narrowed. 

“I don't know,” Nicole replied. “You wouldn't tell me.”

“You know what, we should get some breakfast. I could murder a stack of pancakes.” Wynonna looked her in the eye, unblinking. “Then we'll talk, really talk.”

“But how can we talk?” Nicole asked weakly. “You're dead. The Jack of knives killed you.”

Wynonna looked down, the incision from her involuntary serial killer surgery just visible above the neckline of her shirt. She looked back up, sad but resolute. 

“I'll do my best. Guess you're my ride.” Wynonna headed for the passenger seat of the car.

“No, wait,” Nicole called vaguely. “I can't…”

“Dont worry,” said a calm voice behind her. She turned around. 

Her scream was lost in her throat as a lightning-fast hand closed around her neck.

It was him. It was the Jack of Knives himself. 

He was tall, unshaven and with dark hair slicked back. His eye sockets were hollow and dark, with a burning fiery glow erupting where his pupils should have been. He tilted his head gently and smiled as he lifted her off her feet. 

“Don't worry,” he said again, the heat from his burning eyes scorching Nicole's face. “I don't need you. You're the wrong kind.”

“Nicole!”

She opened her eyes abruptly, her heart racing. The light in the hospital room was blinding. She squinted and scrunched up her face, suddenly aware that her arms had been flailing, reaching out for something to hold onto. Something which, thankfully, she had found. A hand. Holding hers steady. 

She blinked. Her eyes adjusted and a face came into view. 

“Waverly…” she murmured. 

Waverly hesitated as their eyes locked together, and her hand tightened around Nicole's. The other was still mostly covered with a sling. “You were having a nightmare,” she said softly.

For what seemed like a lifetime, neither of them moved, Nicole's fingers tangled with Waverly’s, the young Earp waiting patiently for Nicole to calm herself. If anything though, Nicole felt like her pulse was speeding up. This was the closest she'd been to Waverly since the day they met. Since they'd stood inches apart and she'd helped this stunning woman escape a soaked tank top. Since Nicole had risked it all and asked her out, only to be shut down with the explanation that there was a boyfriend in the picture. A boyfriend that, Nicole suddenly realised, was no longer in the picture. And Waverly was here, in the hospital room - visiting her.

Just as Nicole's heart started to beat hard enough that she swore Waverly must have been able to hear it, the young Earp cleared her throat and took a step back. Nicole's hands felt suddenly empty and her throat dry.

“I uh… just stopped by to see how your were doing,” she said, twiddling something in her hands. Nicole hadn't spotted it at first, it being mostly hidden by the sling. It was a daisy.

She blinked and glanced at the mason jar containing the other daisies and willed her brain to catch up with what her subconscious had already realised. 

“You left the daisies!” 

Waverly smiled and it was like a ray of warm sunshine. Nicole's heart thudded a little harder in her chest and a blush started at the tips of her ears. 

“I didn't know what kind of flowers you liked. And then I figured… Everyone likes daisies…”

Nicole felt the smile start in her heart and work its way up to her face, where it seemed set to remain. The stretching of her cheeks felt almost strange, like the muscles in her face weren't used to the movement anymore. She couldn't think when she'd last had cause to smile like this. Anything before the attack felt like an age ago. 

“They're perfect, thank you. But when did you leave them? Have you… Have you been coming to visit?”

Now it was Waverly’s turn to blush. She dropped her gaze and looked down at the daisy in her hand. 

“Well of  _ course _ I was gonna drop by and see how you were doing,” Waverly said as if it were obvious. Nicole couldn't even find the words to express how not-obvious it was to  _ her _ . “And you we pretty much asleep every time I came by.”

“Pretty much?” Nicole raised her good eyebrow. 

“Well… mostly. Sometimes you seemed to be just drifting off and I didn’t wanna disturb you, because  _ clearly _ you needed the rest, so I figured I’d do a lap or two of the floor and a couple of times I swung by the geriatric ward to say hi to Mr Compton and Mrs Beaterly - she's just had surgery for her cataracts - and whenever I came back around you were out for the count. And much as I would have lov-  _ liked _ , to stand there and wait for you to wake I figured that was one step too close to creepy.” She paused and smiled breathlessly, as if she hoped that last part hadn't fallen too far short of the light, joking tone she'd been aiming for. “I guess I just didn't want to bother you.”

Nicole almost laughed.

“Waverly, you're not bothering me at all. It’s really sweet of you, thank you.”

Waverly beamed and popped the daisy in the jar with the others. Her whole disposition was bright and enchanting, like the last time they had spoken hadn't ended with a woefully inadequate apology and Waverly bolting from the room in a flood of tears. 

Nicole sighed, her chest tightening anxiously. She propped herself up in the bed a little better. “And thank you for coming by at all. Honestly I… I wasn’t sure whether you’d be mad at me.”

Waverly’s brow knitted in confusion. “Mad at you?”

The question hung in the open silence for a moment, but Nicole couldn't find the words to articulate what she was thinking. How could she begin to explain? 

“When you came here with Dolls, asking for information and I…” Nicole trailed off. Maybe her head was still foggy from the painkillers, but she just couldn’t seem to find any words that would do the trick.

Waverly frowned gently. “Nicole… you helped us find Wynonna. We wouldn’t have a had a clue where to look if you hadn’t remembered what you remembered. What on Earth do think I'd be mad at you for?”

_ For not remembering more,  _ Nicole thought _. For not protecting Wynonna the first place. For being the wrong kind and being the only one who got a free ticket out of the serial killer zone.  _

The memory of Waverly’s devastated sobs from the hallway echoed around Nicole's head. She dropped her gaze.

“I just wanted to do more,” she said eventually. “I'm sorry I couldn't do more.”

And then suddenly Waverly was stepping forward and her hand was back on Nicole's. The contact was like an electric shock, shooting up Nicole's arm. Her breath hitched reflexively and she prayed Waverly hadn't noticed. 

“Nicole, Wynonna had been taken to an old prohibition smugglers’ tunnel system. Sour fruit and gasoline. That's what led us there.” Nicole forced herself to meet Waverly’s gaze. “Nicole, they got to Wynonna just in time. Because of you.  _ Thank you _ .”

Nicole blinked, trying to join the dots between the description of the smell and Jack’s hiding place. It seemed to her like the two were unconnected, her brain still lagging several steps behind where she wanted it to be for this conversation.

“You… You’re welcome,” she mumbled eventually. It wasn’t right, she realised too late, as Waverly then dropped her gaze, cleared her throat and turned away, giving Nicole’s hand an awkward little pat as she did so. 

Nicole opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, trying to conjure up something to revive the conversation from this sudden dead end.

“Wynonna came by,” she blurted out suddenly. Waverly looked up. 

“She did?”

“Briefly. How’s she doing?” 

Waverly scoffed and hugged her arms around her middle as best she could, considering the sling. “She’s… well, she’s Wynonna. She’s Wynonna-ing her way through it.”

_ I dread to think what that looks like _ , Nicole thought to herself.

“I’m… I’m worried about her,  _ obviously _ ,” Waverly continued, chewing her lip anxiously. “She’s always worked through stuff on her own before but… I wish I could help more with this. She’s been…. Extra Wynonna-y lately.”

“I’m sure it’s a help just knowing you’re there,” Nicole offered. “She’s smart. She’ll know she can come to you when she’s ready to.”

The corner of Waverly’s mouth twitched ever so slightly, the smile lurking just under the surface. Nicole’s heart beat a fraction faster as the Earp sat down in the seat beside her bed. She bit back the smile that wanted to emerge as Waverly made herself comfy, clearly intending to stay for a bit.

“Well,” Waverly said with a sad smile. “Wynonna’s never really come to me before, why start now?” Her eyes then widened, like the words had escaped without her meaning them to. She cast her eyes down, embarrassed. “I just mean, uh… Wynonna’s tough. If anything, I’m the one that usually needs  _ her _ help.” She lifted her injured arm for emphasis.

“Yeah, I was gonna ask you about that,” Nicole said, gesturing to the sling. “Did that happen during your party at the homestead? I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak to you before…” She trailed off. What was the best way to finish that sentence? ‘ _...before your sister and I got abducted by a serial killer? _ ’ Possibly not.

“Before you left,” Waverly finished, her expression a little haunted. “So much for staying close by,” she said, echoing Nicole’s words to her in the kitchen of the homestead. How had she remembered that, after everything else that happened? She blinked and cleared her throat again. Suddenly, cheerful and upbeat Waverly was back in the room. “But, uh… yeah I hurt my wrist that night. Fighting off the attackers.”

Nicole felt her chest tighten again.

“Are you ok?”

Waverly nodded dismissively. “Oh yeah, there’s no broken bones or anything. I only have to wear the sling a couple more days and maybe have a little physio.”

“No, I mean...” Nicole replied, turning in her bed as much as her achy ribs would allow. “How are you doing? After… everything. Are  _ you _ ok?”

Waverly stared. “Am  _ I  _ ok? Nicole… You were attacked. You’re in the hospital. Forget how I’m doing, how are  _ you _ doing? Nedley said you had… in the woods….”

Nicole tried to unpick the expression on Waverly’s face. It was like there was a conversation going on inside her head and each side of it was wrestling for the opportunity to get the next sentence out loud first.

“They said you had to be resuscitated,” she said eventually. She dropped her gaze, picking at a loose thread in the arm of the chair cushion. 

“Yeah,” Nicole said quietly. She cleared her throat and forced a half smile onto her face. “I guess Purgatory’s not getting rid of me that easy. Maybe  _ I _ should get some daisies for the EMTs, as a thank-you.”

“I think we all should.” Waverly looked up again, wearing that warm smile that filled the room so effortlessly.

Nicole allowed herself a somewhat contented sigh. Perhaps friendship with Waverly wasn’t off the cards after all. At the very least she could relax in the knowledge that Waverly wasn’t mad at her - that  she was grateful, even. Grateful that Nicole remembered what she did, and that she was actually alive to remember it. If she had given up in the woods - if she hadn’t made it to the roadside to flag down the vehicle for help - if she had  _ died _ would they have ever found Wynonna? Maybe not. Maybe Waverly would have lost them both.

_Lost us both?_ Nicole mentally reprimanded her own runaway thoughts. _Get over yourself Haught. You’re not in the same ballpark as her sister. She’s glad you’re alive because you helped find Wynonna and because she’s a good person, not because she wants… more._ _Right?_

But there was something in Waverly’s expression that planted a seed of doubt in Nicole’s mind. Something about the Earp’s gentle smile and the way she chewed her bottom lip that gave Nicole pause. 

“Y’know, Purgatory isn’t always like this,” Waverly said suddenly, leaning back in the chair and making herself comfy. Her tone had changed again to a much chattier, upbeat one, clearly aiming to lift the mood. Again, she managed to do so effortlessly. Feeling brighter around Waverly Earp was as easy as breathing.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, normally it’s a real nice, quiet town. You’ve kind of arrived during a… busy patch. I wouldn’t want you to give up on us all too soon and go running for the hills.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about that, I don’t think I’ll be running anywhere just yet,” Nicole replied with a smile, gesturing to the hospital bed. “Besides, I don’t scare quite that easy.” She’d shot Waverly a friendly wink before she’d even really thought about whether or not it was a good idea to. 

Waverly either didn’t mind or didn’t notice the mildly flirtatious gesture. “Well that’s good to hear. It’d be a huge blow to Purgatory’s Finest if they lost the bold and brave Officer Haught.”

_ Not as bold and brave as maybe you think I am, _ she thought to herself, aware of all the things she knew she  _ wasn’t _ saying to the young Earp.

“Besides,” Waverly continued with a grin. “If you left, who would help me get the aspirin from the top shelf at the station?”

“Ah, the truth comes out!” Nicole said, in mock offense. “You only want me around for my height!”

“Hey don’t sell yourself short.” Waverly cringed. “Uh… no pun intended. I just mean there are a lot of reasons why it’s handy to have a friend who’s a cop.”

Nicole tried to ignore hear heart skipping a beat. Friend. Waverly thought of her as a friend.

She cleared her throat. “A lot of reasons, huh? Do tell.”

“Better chance of talking my way out of a parking ticket?”

Nicole smiled. “Don’t count on it Earp, I already told you I’m not afraid to issue tickets and lose friends.” 

“Ah, well you’ve never had to issue a ticket to the Waverly Earp smile and wave before,” Waverly said, demonstrating the wave as she had done the day they met. It was every bit as adorable now as it had been then. A flood of self-awareness seemed to hit her suddenly, and she dropped her arm awkwardly and lowered her gaze with an embarrassed little cough.

“I’ll bet it’s impossible to resist,” Nicole offered warmly. She was rewarded with a bashful smile from Waverly.

“Ok, well what about free rides home if I ever drink too much at Shorty’s?”

“Is that something you do often?”

“Well… no.” Waverly paused thoughtfully for a moment, and then sat upright and leant forwards excitedly. “Ooh, I bet you can skip lines or get into all the cool restricted places.”

Nicole couldn’t help but laugh. “Waverly, the idea is to  _ uphold _ the law.”

“Oh come on, you’re telling me you’ve never flashed your badge for a non-emergency before?”

Nicole chewed her lip. She must have been imagining the slightly suggestive tone with which Waverly said the phrase ‘flashed your badge’. “Well, there was one time, back in the city… When I was still at the academy… And I blame my friend Justine for this, by the way.”

Waverly leant forward on the arm of the chair, resting her chin on her palm, waiting expectantly for the story.

“We’d all just had our exam results and wanted to celebrate, so we were… blowing off some steam in town one night. Justine wanted to go to a particular club but there was a line down the street.” Nicole paused. She looked up at Waverly guiltily. “We said we were plainclothes officers responding to a report about drug dealers in the club restrooms.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, a little too well,” Nicole admitted. “The bouncer got so worried about it he called the manager down and we had to do a fake sweep of the rest rooms.”

Waverly laughed. The sound was enchanting. “That’s terrible! What did they say when you didn’t find anything?”

“Well that’s the funny part, we actually kinda caught a dealer in the act so we had to call the local precinct and get them to come down and make a formal arrest. We had to come clean about it all, but Justine managed to talk us out of it and we got to stay in the club for the rest of the night. Now,  _ Justine _ could talk her way out of a parking ticket no problem. She could probably talk her way out of anything.”

For a moment, Nicole had almost forgotten that she was laying in a hospital bed because she’d been attacked and nearly killed. She hadn’t felt this at ease since… She cast her mind back and realised it was more or less since her coffee with Waverly so many days before. If she really tried, she could almost pretend that they were still there, having a relaxed, carefree conversation over coffee. 

“Sounds like you were lucky she was there,” Waverly said, her voice a little quieter than before.

“Just lucky that she can charm people around her little finger. I mean, she got me to go along with it in the first place after all.” It was then that Nicole spotted the hint of a conflicted expression on Waverly’s face. Through the course of their conversation it had felt like she had been growing gradually more relaxed. She had curled into a comfy ball on the chair and had lost the conscious tension from her shoulders. But in the last minute something had changed.

Now she had stiffened and seemed to be avoiding prolonged eye contact. The comfortable air that had settled between them was starting to stir with unrest.

Nicole frowned. Had she done something wrong? Was it something she’d said?

“It sounds like you’re good friends. You must miss having her around.” The cheeriness in Waverly’s voice was more noticeably forced now, and she had dropped her gaze completely.

A thought suddenly crossed Nicole’s mind that she hardly dared allow herself to consider. A thought about what could have changed Waverly’s mood so suddenly. A thought about what might have triggered her withdrawal. Nicole decided to put it to the test.

“Yeah she’s a great friend, but she can be hard work.” She took a breath. “I don’t envy her  _ boyfriend _ Bobby the job of being the one wrapped around her finger twenty-four-seven.”

Waverly’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly. Nicole might not have noticed at all if she hadn’t been looking for it. Waverly looked up. The genuine smile was back. Nicole let out a slow sigh of relief.

“So how about you? You got a partner in crime to talk you in and out of trouble?”

Waverly smiled broadly and laughed. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said, feigning innocence. “I, Waverly Earp, never get into trouble.”

“Is that right?” Nicole teased.

“That’s right. Nobody wants to tangle with the girl that can cut them off at the bar.”

“Is that the secret power of the bar-keep? Get cut off if you cross her and maybe get a free drink if you can get on her good side?”

“If you play your cards right.” Waverly’s eyes widened once the words had made their way out of her mouth and she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushed. Nicole was sure she hadn’t imagined the tone that time. Was…was Waverly flirting with her? 

A silence - she wasn’t sure if it was the uncomfortable kind or not - threatened to loom so she cleared her throat again.

“So have you been doing much cutting people off, or did you at least take some time off work for yourself these past few days?”

“Time off, definitely,” Waverly replied, clearly grateful for the conversation rescue. “It’s been… it’s been a crazy couple of weeks. Gus has been really good about me taking a little time to allow my hand to heal and to, uh…  _ avoid _ some of the regular crowd at Shorty’s.”

“Any particular reason why?” Nicole asked although she already had a pretty good idea.

“Well, Champ and I actually broke up,” Waverly said, a little coyly, eyes down, twisting the loose cushion thread around her fingers. “That is,  _ I _ broke up with him. So… we’re broken up.”

There was a pause.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” Nicole offered.

“I’m not.” Here, Waverly looked up and her stare was so earnest that Nicole honestly didn’t know what to say. 

They stayed, eyes locked for a moment that felt like an eternity. Nicole could feel her heart crashing against her ribcage because now she was certain; there was something there, between them. 

Waverly broke eye contact first. Fueled by a newfound hope, Nicole took a shaky breath and tried to muster up all the cool she could.

_ Round two Haught, let’s do this. _

“So listen,” she said, cutting through the rapidly forming silence. “I don’t want you feeling like you’re disturbing me by dropping by, so why don’t you take my number so you can text ahead next time?” Waverly looked up and Nicole flashed her warmest smile. “Y’know, so I can make sure I’m awake.”

Waverly looked a little flustered and twisted her fingers together nervously. “I uh, I actually already have your number.” Nicole blinked. “You gave me your card. The day we met, remember?”

_ She kept it. She kept your number. _ Nicole smiled breathlessly. “Oh, yeah! Of course, I totally forgot.”

“ _ But _ ,” Waverly said, suddenly bright and eyeing up Nicole’s phone on the side unit. “You don’t have mine. May I?”

Nicole nodded wordlessly and reached up for the phone, unlocking it and handing it to Waverly.

“Aw, cute! Is this your cat?” she asked, looking at the wallpaper.

“Yeah,” Nicole replied with a smile. “My hair-ballin’ housemate, Calamity Jane.”

Waverly chuckled as she proceeded to type her number into the phone. “I’d love to have a cat, but I don’t think Wynonna would agree. She never really saw the point in any of the pets I had as a kid.” 

“You had lots of them?” 

“One or two.” Something about the reply made Nicole suspect that this was an understatement.

Before Waverly was done with the phone, she held it up and shot that gorgeous smile of hers to the camera as the shutter sound effect rang out. She handed the phone back to Nicole, which now contained both her cell and home number, email and social media links, complete with a breathtaking contact photo. 

Nicole looked up and Waverly was beaming. “Now you can let me know when you’re gonna be awake too. Although,” she reached into her bag for her own phone with a smirk. “I do still need a contact photo for  _ your  _ number.”

Nicole immediately held up her hands to shield her face. “Not looking like this, I’m begging you! At least wait until I look a bit more human.”

“You look just  _ fine,  _ Nicole,” Waverly chided lightly. “But remember, you owe me a photo.”

“Don’t you worry, I won’t forget.”

There was another pause of silence but this time there wasn’t a hint of discomfort or awkwardness.

Eventually, Waverly looked at her watch and rose from the chair.

“I guess I’d better get outta your hair,” she said. “Which, by the way, looks really nice. I mean, it  _ always  _ looks nice, but you usually always wear it up in your braid. It’s nice like this, too, down I mean.”

Part of Nicole wanted to rescue Waverly from her second-guessed compliment ramble, and part of her found it so endearing she couldn’t bear to interrupt. 

Part of her seemed unable to register that any of this was even happening.

“Thank-you,” she said kindly, when Waverly opted to stop speaking. “And thank you for coming by and for the flowers.”

“Maybe I’ll come see how you’re doing again tomorrow,” Waverly murmured.

“You know where I’ll be. Don’t be a stranger.”

Waverly nodded and with one final smile and a little wave, she skipped away into the hall.

The goofy grin stayed on Nicole’s face for hours after Waverly’s visit and the next nap she had was nightmare-free.


End file.
